The Inauguration of Dunces
Ask me how I’ve been and I’ll tell you, up until now I have been holding it together fairly well. I have been listening to the news, my eyes have been glued to the Rachel Maddow Show, and I even have been checking my Facebook page to see which senators need to be called and when. The Divorce Dress has taken a trip to the White House for a photoshoot this last week and although I wasn’t hands on, I was proud of just seeing the photos that Kay sent in. Proud to see people from around the globe getting ready to protest and I have been embracing the swells of “fight back” that people in communities all over have been organizing. You see, up until now I have been engaged and ready to act. I have not been lying dormant in a sea of confusion, I have been what I consider, shocked and stunned but connected and mentally active.
Real Life Side Story: Part I
Today my oldest son is finishing up his first chunk of freshman high school
finals. I am so proud of him, but I realize that there are only eight chunks
of finals that he will take throughout high school, and today marks the last
final of the first chunk. My boy is 14 years old, and in 7 more chunks of
finals, is going to venture out into the world on his own, with his own
dreams, his own visions, and his own ideals leading the way into this future.
It was so sweet this morning, I tried waking him so we could go to breakfast
together and really honor this big milestone. His long hair was criss-crossing
over his face every which way, his eyes looked young and sleep locked, but
his large hands and giant size 13 feet were there to remind me that the
clock is ticking. We can’t go back. He is on his way forward and I can’t
tuck him under my arm any longer. I can’t help him pick out his clothes and
I’m happy if he listens to my suggestion to take a shower. He is his own person.
And so, I guess that “engaged” was my process before today descended on me. Today I have been choking back sobs while pushing my cart into the fruit and vegetable aisle. NOW, I have been purposely not on the phone because my emotions are unstable and unknown to me. Today at the kitchen sink, with my hands in the warm bubbles, I feel my eyes well with moisture and plink-plink over the brink.
You see, I am (and I hope we all are) all too well aware that this man commonly referred to as President Elect Trump has become Mr. President himself. This man who has put divides between races will be the Leader of the Free World. This man who has been demoting the “other sex” with claims of rights to our body parts, with nasty referrals to our menstrual cycles and a demeaning glean in his eye, is taking us back to the 50’s, to the place where he would like to look down on us whilst perched on his golden throne.
This same piece of work is getting caught in lie after lie and seems to have no idea that we can see what he’s doing via the media AND that we have access to what he has said in the past. He offers no apologies.
And to top it off, he’s redesigning the idea of what we need as a leader for this country; redesigning the way the White House functions to suit his own fancy. This man, of whom people from differing political viewpoints are counting on to bring them much needed change and/or much needed order, has done a bang up job already of tearing down the foundation of equality in all arenas of our lives, democrats and republicans alike.
There are many ways we can be alarmed, but in my heart, the big one is that he wants to do away with the Ethics Committee.
But you see my friends, with the nation just swallowing his lies, letting him progress without holding him accountable, and without demanding that he follow the rules of the government that were put in place to protect us, THE PEOPLE, that we are already done with the Ethics Committee. We are throwing our hands up, we are giving up. Oh God, just like that, are we?
Real Life Side Story: Part II
I asked my son if he’d like to join me at the march at the Clock Tower
in Santa Cruz tomorrow. The marches have been called Women’s
Marches in the press and he’s been soaking it all in. Now that he’s
allowed to stay up later than the other kids, it’s fun to see how he
comments on the news programs we watch or the radio shows we
listen to. Sometimes he brings up politics on his own, with a fresh
perspective that shows off his growing mind, and sometimes with a
certain amount of naivete. But in the last couple of weeks, he’s gone
from expressing his views and opinions of the Trump Presidency to
expressing nothing really. He hasn’t mentioned it. So today when I
asked if he’d like to go to the march with me, he kind of looked down
and said, “That’s for women…”If Trump is allowed to have a cabinet
full of unqualified members, and IF they don’t know how to perform
their jobs, they will have no idea of whom they should put in the positions
below them. Our country will be shorthanded and stunted in case of
On the news last night I heard that there is no counsel seat appointed for SAP Director of African Affairs, SAP Director of Russia/Asia Affairs, or European Affairs, or South Asia Affairs, or of Iran/Iraq Gulf State Affairs, even for the SAP Director of Western Hemisphere Affairs. The senate doesn’t even need to confirm these seats, they are merely appointed, but they sit empty. Is this possible? This not set up at a time where we are most vulnerable because the Commanders in Chief are passing the baton? Is this a joke? Instead of two Champion Athletes handing a baton in a race for life and order, I feel like the majorette we call Trump (Trumpette?) has just dropped the baton big time right in time for the band to play Pomp and Circumstance!
Today I heard on the news as I was opening my eyes, that 17 states have had multiple bomb threats. As of yesterday, our Key National Security Counsel had named NOT.ONE.PERSON. for any of the open positions. State Department of National Security. Wide open. The National Security of Defense Department, hangs slack, open, and lifeless… like my jaw. My heart is unsteady, my mind is racing, the possibilities of total calamity are eminent. This will be (very well could be) the Shit Show of the Century. I can’t breathe. I can’t talk. I have become immobilized. Is this what has been happening to all of us? This is not a democrat v. republican issue any longer. This is an issue of solidarity, of security, and of the times.
Everywhere we look, no matter how passionate and how solid we seem, we are being choked with fears and worries, some so big that it conflicts directly with being the humans we are supposed to be (LGBT, Women, and all of the beautiful races and ethnicities).
Real Life Side Story: Part III
“Oh, this march isn’t just for women!” I was shocked to hear him label it as
such. “The march tomorrow is to stand up for who we are as a nation. To
express how we will not put up with oppression, and we will not be
dominated by the orange male population! It’s a chance to march with the
different populations in our communities and support them, all of them,
including the Gay, Lesbian, Bi, and Transgendered communities, the
women’s community, and every race who has had the burden of making
their way into our country from around the world. This is a march for men,
too! Men from all of those communities, and also for men who don’t want
women to lose their voice, their positions, their value in our society. You are
mistaken my little monkey if you think this march is only for women.” I
didn’t get a lot of eye contact from him. Mainly he just looked out the window.
I wasn’t sure if he was listening, I sure wasn’t trying to preach, but with
teenage kids, well, sometimes you just don’t know if you’re getting through.
It’s a hard fight to fight when the bullets are zinging from every which way. Knowledge can be your shield, and to think of it, your sword too. But the heart of a warrior comes from a passion, purpose…and to march side by side with like-minded people to preserve our way of life, our culture,…is well…our everything. So check out the papers, let’s let our CRIES OF FREEDOM really ring across the globe. We will not be oppressed. We will not be silenced. And we will march together in solidarity, to keep, to cherish, what we as a whole country have worked so hard to gain.
Real Life Side Story: Part IV
I don’t think my crazy kid even brushed his hair, just threw on a baseball
cap, ironically, one with an American flag on it from Sub Pop, the recording
studio where Nirvana was recorded, and I brought him to school to finish
his last chunk of finals: A chunk measuring his impending adulthood.
“Hey mom,” he said, sticking his head back in the car after he got out.
“What time is the march tomorrow?” “Noon at the Clock Tower.” “Yeah,”