I’ve been thinking of something to say about our post (or current, depending on your stance) election state of affairs, but there are neither good ideas to say nor do I think anything I pen would help. Authors, novelists and the lot, can write the words that upend lives, change trajectories, or haunt you forever. If you doubt me, you haven’t read Wally Lamb’s “I Know This Much Is True.” But, we columnists have a small space for our grand ideas. We operate on a “first do no harm” mantra. At least, I do. It’s important to leave you with a decent taste in your mouth. But, my brain is only full of murk and gunk today. I’m not sure where we stand, any of us. The division is real. It is deep. It is an open wound that gaped overnight and can no longer be stitched back together, I fear. I don’t talk politics because that topic fell into the basket clearly marked with a NO label, for me, at least. Besides, armchair politics are best discussed on social media, where everyone is an expert, eh? So, we are a bit of nowhere, it seems. I was thinking about other divisions and other times in our lives today, while trying to get a topcoat on an end table I’ve been refinishing for weeks now. You know, those one day DIY projects that last months? I flipped on the television, hoping to catch a Hallmark Christmas movie, only to see a marathon of one of my favorite shows, The Waltons. Don’t roll your eyes. I love the Waltons. It checks all my warm and fuzzy boxes: set in the 40s, showcases a lovely old farmhouse, always shows multiple aprons (apron fanatic, at your service), and features a grown up version of a main character narrating each episode from his memories. Gotta love John Boy. Anyway, this episode was the one where WWII was in full swing. The US hadn’t yet declared our involvement, though, so the country was glued to the radio for info on the Allies in Europe and the encroaching Nazi regime. The Baldwin Sisters decided they needed to offer up some asset to help the cause, so they wanted to donate their slightly ramshackle house at the seashore to our military, who were running drills for their impending war involvement. John Walton offered to do the needed repairs and the whole family went along. As the news of German attacks in France darkened the mood, Grandpa Walton shared tragic stories from the First World War. The children listened to every word. Their fear was palpable. But, this was an era when soldiers were heroes. Churchill’s speeches brought men to tears. War was noble. I started thinking about that attitude in juxtaposition with The Vietnam Conflict, where our soldiers returned to a world that did not hold them in high esteem. I thought about recent conflicts in The Gulf War, how they lasted far longer than the spans of the World Wars. Like anything else in our lives, war has changed. We no longer gather around radios to hear a one time, never to be repeated broadcast of news. We get the information as it happens, sometimes in live video format. And, yet, we seem to be fighting 2 wars now.
There is no love lost between political parties today. We are weeks away from the holiday season, which has other problems we’ll get to shortly, and we are fed up with each other. In the words of Sinead O’Connor from her 1990 song Black Boys on Mopeds, “To say what you feel is to dig your own grave.” I don’t know anyone who’s unaffected. I’ve been blocked and unfollowed by family members for stating I liked a particular person’s speech. I’ve received multiple messages from people I love with vile language and imagery, because they consider me a part of the world’s problem. I’ve been told, because I tend to vote based on my preference to a particular candidate rather than solely by party lines, that I’m the absolute scum of the earth. I’ve never felt so misunderstood or rejected, as I sit here in my cozy home creating this piece on my cool laptop while my husband watches the Cowboys playing football from the big screen TV in the next room. I am a person of privilege. It seems the more I try and remember that, the more apt I am to say something that keeps me in the hot seat. This war between the parties stabs families with sharp knives, sometimes cutting them right in half. The headlines are concerning and confusing. Texas hits 1 million Covid-19 cases. El Paso shuts down. El Paso’s shutdown is overturned. They’re lying about the case numbers. Stores require masks. When mass numbers of shoppers enter without masks, stores don’t quite know what to do. Families are making Thanksgiving plans. Families are cancelling Thanksgiving plans. No one knows what to do in this Coronavirus war. We sneer at the people wearing masks. We sneer at the people not wearing masks. Science is the only thing you can trust. You can’t trust science. IT IS MADDENING. As I near my allotment of words, I fear I’m violating my mantra. I don’t know that I have enough ribbon to wrap this one up in a bow for you. So, I’ll leave you with a quote full of words so saccharine you are practically required to frame them and give them as a Christmas gift for that family gathering you may or may not cancel. Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Good day and God bless.
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