IF NOT NOW, THEN WHEN?

I am scared.  And I am angry. 

A while back, a niece a couple of decades younger than I asked me if I had ever before experienced a time like the one we are living through. I thought for a moment, and then told her I had lived through many scary and upsetting times, had lived through administrations I abhorred and seen presidents take actions with which I vehemently disagreed, but I had never experienced an administration that was hell-bent on tearing down our institutions, that had so little respect for the rule of law. 

Here is something else I have never seen before - Congress and the Supreme Court ceding virtually all of their power to the Executive Branch.

I have seen presidents act lawlessly (e.g., Watergate), but I have never before heard a President baldly state that the only restraint on his power is his "own morality." (And we have seen what that "morality" looks like.)  

I am scared.  And I am angry.

I've been scared before.  I was scared during the Cold War,  particularly during the Cuban Missile Crisis (1962).  I was scared on 9/11/2001.

I've been angry before.  I was angry when my country kept escalating the Vietnam War.  I was angry when my country invaded Iraq and Afghanistan. 

But, truly, I have never experienced a time like this or felt the fear or anger that I feel right now.

Today, I want to address just one thing that is making me angry and afraid, and that is the ICE crackdown on immigrants-- both those who are here legally and those who lack papers.  I have read that ICE is arresting people (including two children with cancer) even when they protest that they are citizens, and placing them in detention until they can prove their citizenship.  I have read of the horrible conditions in these detention centers.  I have seen videos of people being dragged from their vehicles.   I have read of people being sent to countries to which they have no connection, where they are held and tortured.

And now an American citizen has been shot and killed in Minneapolis, and despite videos clearly demonstrating otherwise, our president is claiming that she ran over an ICE officer. 

And two people have been shot by federal agents in Portland, with the administration again claiming they had "weaponized" their vehicle.  The facts about this shooting are not yet in, but this has not stopped the administration from creating "facts" of their choosing. (And even if, as the administration claims, these people were gang members, do we shoot people for this?)

Oh, and here's an interesting fact - ICE agents are trained not to stand in front of vehicles or to shoot at moving vehicles.

Look, we may need to reform our immigration system, but is this how we want to do it?  With cruelty and violence?  And do those who think these mass deportations are a good idea understand that it is immigrants, legal or not, who pick our fruits and vegetables in the hot sun, mow our lawns, clean our houses, wash dishes in restaurants, and do other jobs that those more fortunate eschew? Let's see how mass deportation affects our economy . . . 

So what shall we do?  If we do nothing are we like the "good Germans" who did nothing to prevent the rounding up and killing of Jews by the Nazis?  Never before have I felt so helpless, a feeling that is shared by most of my friends. 

There's only one thing I can think of to do, and that is to speak out, to take to the streets.  Last year, I did not do this.  I had two reasons.  One was my husband's death and the strange new place I found myself in. The other was fear.

But this year it is time for me to step out from behind the shield of my widowhood.  After all, I know Bill would be speaking up.

And yes, in this climate, I am afraid to take to the streets.  Hell, I am afraid to publish this post.  But, those of you who read my last post know that courage is one of the three words I have chosen to keep in front of me this year.  I am determined to walk through my fear, to raise my voice.  This is what my morality requires.

Last night, I took part in a candlelight vigil for Renee Good, the woman killed in Minneapolis. Hundreds of people gathered at a busy intersection in my city.  

Many people honked their horns in support. Two people yelled angry obscenities at us, and a car drove over a curb on one of the corners in an attempt at intimidation.  So, yes, there is reason for fear, but imagine the fear of those who are being targeted by ICE.

I know that my taking part in this vigil was a small act, but if more and more people speak up and step forth, maybe we can stop the madness.  At least we will know we didn't stay silent in the face of cruelty and injustice. 

Let me close this post with the quote from which I took its title:

If not now, then when?

If not me, then who?

                   - Malcom X

Good night and stay safe. 

(If you would like to find actions that you can take, look for a branch of Indivisible in your area by clicking on this link and scrolling down to the "SEARCH FOR YOUR GROUP" button: https://indivisible.org/)

WORDS TO LIVE BY

I am not one for New Year’s resolutions, but I do like the idea of choosing a word or words to set the tone for the new year.  There are those who settle on one word; I prefer to choose three.  

 

Here, in alphabetical order, is the list I started with for 2026:  

 

Acceptance

Appreciation

Courage

Creativity

Faith

Focus

Forgiveness

Generosity

Gratitude

Hope

Kindness

Patience

Service

 

After much contemplation, nay agonizing, I have settled on these three:

 

Acceptance

Courage

Gratitude

 

(This is not to say the others will not guide my intentions for the new year, but contemplating more than three on a daily basis could lead to an inability to focus on any of them.)

 

Here is why I chose these three.  

 

Acceptance

 

As those who follow this blog know, this has been a challenging year for me. When something devastating happens – the death of one’s husband, say, or the totaling of one’s car -- the first reaction (mine anyway) is to fight against the reality of the event, to utter an elongated noooooooo.  It is difficult to take in a huge, unwanted life change.  The mind rebels.  But sooner or later, we must accept the reality that this is the way things are – there is no turning back. 

 

This is true not only for personal, but also for community or global happenings. Gun violence, wars, political insanity – all of these are real.  I will say again, as I have said before, acceptance is not resignation.  Once we stop fighting reality, we can figure out what to do about it.  Resignation will not lead to action, but acceptance just might allow us to move forward with our lives after a great loss or to move in the direction of healing our broken world. 

 

Courage

 

Acceptance requires courage.  It takes courage to move forward in the face of loss, to take steps, however small, toward addressing the heartbreaking realities present in our world.  I’m not sure what these steps might be, but I intend look for them in the new year and to try to move forward with courage.  (Suggestions are welcome.)

 

Gratitude

 

Gratitude is a great healer.  When I become teary over my husband’s absence, I will try to remember to be grateful for the time we had, and to think back over happy moments. 

 

Gratitude also leads to contentment. Noticing what we have is a great way to stop regretting what we do not have. The other morning, I turned up the heat and experienced a moment of pure gratitude for my functioning furnace. Sometimes, I stand in the shower and feel gratitude for hot, running water. Occasionally, in a grocery store, I look about me and feel amazement at the bounty on the shelves.  (This helps a bit with my shock at ever-rising prices.) 

 

And what will I do now that I have chosen my three words?  

Well, I have posted them in my office and will add them to the notes on my phone.  I will try to remember to contemplate them on a regular basis in the hope that they will ease my path through the new year. 

                                                                        Photo by Martino Pietropoli on Unsplash

 

 May you find words that will do the same for you. 

 

IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES; IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us . . ."

                                            - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

As I sit down this evening to write about the year that is ending, I must beg Mr. Dickens' pardon for my stealing the brilliant first lines of his much-lauded 1859 novel. It has indeed been a year of highs and lows for our country and our world.  But tonight I'm going to write about personal highs and lows.  

                     

                                            Photo by Custom Patches By Bob on Unsplash

When I began to think about this past year, I was surprised to find that sad and challenging events notwithstanding, there was much that was positive to be chronicled.  I will begin here with the worsts, in order to make way for the bests.

The worsts

I endured the loss of my beloved husband, Bill, and the "firsts" without him that followed -- his birthday, my birthday, family birthdays, Thanksgiving, our anniversary, Christmas.

About three months after Bill passed, my 2014 Prius was T-boned by a car exiting a parking lot.  My car was totaled, and just as I was completing the paperwork that attends a death, I was confronted with insurance paperwork, along with the necessity of purchasing another car.

Exzema, something I had never suffered before, entered my life while Bill was sick.  It became worse when he died and much worse after the accident.

Bill, God love him, was a pack rat and he left me with mountains of stuff to deal with. 

The bests

I was surrounded by love and support from family and friends in the wake of Bill's death.  I will never forget this kindness.

Bill's sons and I planned and pulled off a wonderful celebration of his life.  His sons also spent many hours over several days going through his stuff, taking what they wanted and helping me to dispose of much of the rest.

I was not seriously injured in the accident.  My whiplash is being treated by wonderful physical therapists.

I have taken advantage of the six free massages offered by a local hospice.

A friend and former colleague has taken over interactions with the insurance companies that are handling the accident.

My daughter Anne and her husband Peter searched online for a car. Peter found, and went with me to purchase, the 2024 Kia Niro plug-in hybrid that I am now driving. 

I was buoyed by the support group I participated in for two years before Bill's passing.  The people in this group - their stories and their vulnerability - will be forever in my heart.

I visited Victoria, British Columbia with a friend, travelled east to visit old friends, and drove six hours to visit other old friends.

I spent many happy hours with my very young grandchildren.  I hung out with friends.  I read and I wrote.  I gardened and I walked. 

Of course, I never stopped missing Bill, and the above events and activities were interspersed with bouts of deep grief.  While I do not in Dickens' words have "everything ahead of [me]," neither do I have "nothing ahead of [me]."

I know my grief will be with me in the new year, but given the many blessings in my life, I am cautiously optimistic about 2026.

May we all find reasons for hope as the year turns.

OF LOVE, LONELINESS, AND AN ANNIVERSARY

I have been thinking about the varieties of loneliness I have experienced in my life.  I was lonely as a child.  I had playmates, but my main companions were books.  As a teenager, I had friends, but longed for a boyfriend.  (I was a late bloomer - no boyfriend until I was 18).  As the years went by, I found that I did not know how to be alone, and that I was lonely whenever I was not in love.  This made for some dark days.  Happily, as I wrote about in an old post, I eventually learned to enjoy my own company, and to treasure time alone.  

I rarely knew loneliness in midlife.  This was not just because I had a partner.  I remember years ago reading a quote from the actress Jessica Lange to the effect that she had never felt lonely since having children.  I did not understand.  I, who was both partnerless and childless at the time, could not fathom a life without loneliness.  

 

But Jessica was right.  I have never felt lonely since having children, even after my daughters were fully grown and launched. I do not look to them to fill my days--although their children, my grandchildren, do plenty of that, but there is something about having this net of family that has kept loneliness at bay.

 

At least, that was the case until six months ago when my husband died. I am now experiencing a new kind of lonely.  I do not want for people with whom to spend time. My life is filled to the brim with beloved family and friends.  I do not wish for another life partner. The loneliness I am feeling now is the loneliness that comes of missing a particular person. 

 

I am delighted to spend time with my friends and family. There is, however, a Bill-sized hole in my heart that no one else can fill. Evenings are the most challenging time, especially the long, dark evenings at this time of year. Evenings, I look for him in the funky old chair where he always sat.  Evenings, I am sad.

Today Bill and I would have celebrated 21 years of marriage, and although I had the joy of spending most of the day with precious granddaughters, there is a loneliness that comes of not being able to share the day with him.  

 

In the mid-century novel Love Story, a character famously says, "Love means never having to say you're sorry."  That's a crock.  I wish I could tell Bill I am sorry for the times I was impatient or otherwise a less-than-ideal wife.  I do tell him these things.  I believe he knew and knows how much I loved him.  Love means many things, including the possibility of loss and grief.  If not for the love that Bill and I shared, I would not be feeling the loneliness of missing him. 

 

I am grateful for that love.  It was worth the loss and loneliness. And in honor of that love, I will treasure my memories and seek to make the most of the years that are left to me.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OF HULA HOOPS AND OTHER DISAPPOINTMENTS

When I was a child in New Jersey, there was a large discount store in our area called Two Guys From Harrison.* My father would take us to Two Guys--as the store was eventually known--on Saturdays, and we would walk down what I remember as wide aisles with goods piled up on each side.  Given the decades that have passed since those Saturdays, my memory of the store layout could be off.  There is one thing I do remember clearly, however, and that is the day we came upon hula hoops - piles and piles of hula hoops.  In my memory, there were hundreds, and I, at age eight or nine, thought them beautiful.  Such a rainbow of bright colors.  

These excursions were generally occasions for looking, not buying, but, I begged to be allowed to take home a hula hoop, and, to my amazement, my father bought me one.

The next thing I remember was my disappointment upon examining my prize during the ride home.  I don't recall what color it was, but I do remember that without the other hoops in the pile, it wasn't much to look at.  It was the rainbow that had attracted me.  

Of course, I enjoyed my new toy, but I have never forgotten that disappointment.  

Our lives begin with small disappointments such as the one I just described.  As we grow older, the disappointments increase.  Here is one I experienced that was more than a little embarrassing. When I first heard "the cloud" spoken of, and for several years thereafter, I understood the term literally. I thought data was floating above us. What can I say?  My mother always said I had a vivid imagination. Can you picture my disappointment when I learned that "the cloud" was a giant data center in, among other places, rural Oregon?  I can just hear Anne Shirley** saying, "There's no scope for imagination in that."

Some disappointments are more consequential.  Here is the one I want to talk about today:  I have recycled for decades.  Long before there was curb-side pickup, I would take my plastic, glass, cans, and newspapers to a recycling center.  I thought I was doing a good thing.  I still think it is a good thing where glass and paper and cans are considered, but a number of years back, I learned that much of the plastic that we dutifully recycle ends up in landfills.  

That was disappointing, but I kept setting out my plastic every two weeks in the special bin provided by our garbage collector, hoping that at least some of it would be recycled. And then, came the disappointment that turned quickly to a feeling of helplessness; a friend told me he no longer recycles plastic after learning that much of it is sent to Africa, where it is dumped in the ocean or burned. He figured a landfill was a better option than either of these two.   

After this conversation, I did my due diligence, reading articles confirming that less than ten percent of plastic is actually recycled; the rest winds up in landfills or overseas in countries that do not have the infrastructure to deal with it, where it is dumped or burned unsafely. Here is just one of many articles that explains what goes on.  I encourage you to read it. 

So what is the solution?  We can take small steps - e.g., replacing plastic straws with metal ones, avoiding items encased in heavy plastic, and, for the love of God, unless we are victims of a natural disaster, can we stop buying bottled water? Spoiler alert:  Much of it is just tap water.  

These small steps, however, will do nothing to stem the flow of plastic at its source. (And is it really possible to avoid buying things encased in plastic?)  As long as manufacturers are pumping plastic into every part of our lives, there is little we can do as individuals to keep the stuff out of our landfills and waterways. 

This brings me to my sense of helplessness.  Other than the small steps we can take to avoid plastic, can anyone tell me what we can do to influence manufacturers or lawmakers?  

Thoughts and prayers aren't going to do it.

Lest I leave you in a state of catatonia, I will offer a couple of hopeful signs.  

We have a company called Ridwell operating in our area.  For a small monthly fee (cheaper if paid annually), this company picks up items such as plastic bags, batteries, flat plastic lids, used clothing, light bulbs, and styrofoam, every two weeks.  The company is transparent about who they partner with and what becomes of the items they collect.  They do not dump items in a landfill or burn them. 

There are also places that will recycle electronics, another big problem -- my research turned up sources reporting that 85 percent of electronic waste winds up in landfills or is incinerated.  Earth Friendly Recycling is such a place near me in southwest Washington.  Free Geek in Portland, Oregon also refurbishes and recycles electronics.  A Google search will probably turn up a place near you.  

Of course, we shouldn't have to search out places to take our difficult-to-recycle item, but while we are figuring out how to influence those who create the waste, it's a start - a small one for sure, but I'm damned if I'm going to throw dead electronics in the trash.

Parting thought:  How about we buy less stuff?

* Fun fact - According to Wikipedia and other sources, when brothers Herbert and Sidney Hubschman opened their first store (after selling televisions from a vacant lot), they wanted to name the store Two Bastards From Harrison because that was what their competitors were calling them. Finding that no newspapers would take their ads, they substituted Guys for Bastards.   

** In case there is anyone who doesn't recognize the name, Anne Shirley is the titular character in the Anne of Green Gables series of young adult novels.  

HAPPY MIDDLES

I have four young grandchildren.  One of them loves books about Disney princesses. When I read these books to her, I always balk at the final line - They lived happily ever after.  I usually change it slightly to read, They were very happy. 

Does anyone live happily ever after? 

When my husband died, a friend sent me an email, in which he said, among other things, "If I could write as you do, I would write about all the 'happy ever after' stuff that was put in our minds as we grew up and how now we are seeing how badly we were misled . . ."

And, so, as it appears my friend will not take on the topic, I sit down to write this post.

Here's the thing. I'm delighted to play along with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.  Children should have their fantasies.  I love to read happy stories to the kids--thus, my they-were-very-happy compromise.  They don't need to know about the hard stuff before they learn to read.  But, I don't think that happily ever after is a thing, and this myth caused a lot of us to grow up with unrealistic expectations of unending and uninterrupted happiness.

As I see it, what we get instead are happy middles.

Here's my thinking.  Relationships begin and, after some period of time, they end, either because the people involved part ways or because one of them dies.  In between, if we are lucky, there is happiness.

Our lives are filled with happy middles - I think about my child-rearing years.  The girls were born, and there was a long stretch while their father and I raised them, and then they grew up and away.  It was a happy middle.  Same with places we live.  We move in, and eventually we move out, enjoying the middle period that is our life in each home. And so it goes with each chapter of our lives.  We are fully in the chapter, and then it is behind us. 

I don't mean for this to be depressing.  It doesn't have to be. What if we grew up understanding that there is no avoiding change? What if, as is taught in Buddhism, we understood that impermanence is an integral part of life, that clinging to what is or was leads only to suffering?

I'm not suggesting this is easy.  I hate that my husband died.  I will never "get over" losing him. I miss the little girls my daughters once were.  I miss people who are no longer in my life.  But I am doing my best to look back with pleasure on past happy middles and to make the most of what I am in the middle of now -- days with grandchildren and other family, days with friends, decent health, a warm and comfortable house, and much more. 

Of course, even happy middles have their rough patches, and some middles are not happy at all.  When life is at its most difficult we can take comfort in the fact that unhappy middles also end.  

So, let's try to pay attention to our happy middles while we are living them.  And when someone we know is enduring an unhappy middle, let's be there for them.

Can we do this?  

I would like to think so.

                                                                      Photo by Khadeeja Yasser on Unsplash

GLIMMERS

While walking up the path through my front garden a few days ago, I was arrested by the sight of a butterfly hovering over an aster.  I took this picture, and then just stood and gazed at the tableau until the butterfly moved on.

This got me thinking about glimmers. If you have never heard of glimmers, allow me to explain.  I can't remember who introduced me to the concept, but, as I understand it, a glimmer is more or less the opposite of a trigger.  A quick Google search tells me that glimmers and triggers have to do with polyvagal theory and the reactions of our autonomic nervous systems to cues in the environment. 

But I'm not interested in getting all scientific here.  I'm just going to tell you what a glimmer is for me.  It is something that slows me down and brings me pleasure. 

Here are a few more  recent glimmers of mine.  No words are required.

I see glimmers as tiny gifts in troubling times.  I think the important thing is to really stop and take in the glimmer.  While it is difficult to avoid being upset by a trigger, I think we often glance at a glimmer and move on.  

Let's stay with them.

What if we had "glimmer alerts" as well as "trigger warnings"?  What if a college professor walked into a classroom and said, Before we get started, please walk to the window and take in that amazing tree? What if a podcast host began a podcast with these words: The following program might bring you tears of joy.  Please invite your children to listen with you? 

This morning, as I left the building where I swim, I was greeted by beautiful autumn weather -- 75 degrees and sunny, with a slight breeze rustling the leaves of surrounding maple trees.   As far as I am concerned, any such day during my favorite season is an all-day glimmer. 

And you?  What are your glimmers?