Lately it seems as if the answer is no more often than it is yes. It’s a sign of the times we humans are living in, or more accurately, my interpretation of the times. I know not everyone thinks things are as dire as I do. In fact, I’m confounded daily by the percentage of people who seem to think the country is moving in the right direction. (What planet, yada yada yada.)
In spite of their belief that everything is hunky-dory, they seem furious most of the time, so I have to believe (a) they believe strongly in whatever beliefs they espouse to hold, and (b) they are deathly afraid they are going to lose. I don’t get it, personally, but they don’t get me either. The only difference is I don’t want them to die. They not only couldn’t care less if I die, but they would probably take a selfie if I died in the street in front of them.
Yesterday the answer seemed to be no from the people I was standing with on the street corner of our busy local highway. The highway is a major thoroughfare from Eugene to the coast. There’s only one stoplight, and that’s where we stand. Every time a horn honked, which was often, I cringed even as I waved my sign, thinking all it would take is one distracted driver, no matter what their political persuasion, to lose control and knock us all over like bowling pins. Still, I had to show up. The cool thing is, I wasn’t alone. There were about one-hundred kindred spirits standing with me. The next time we show up, I have promised myself I will get at least one phone number.
I saw lots of No Kings signs. A few No Faux-king Way signs. One protester had loving decorated a sign about monarchs with some disturbingly lifelike pinned butterflies. My double-sided sign expressed my opinion on one side: Stop Using Our Tax $ on Your Stupid War. Double exclamation point. On the other side I had scrawled a slogan I borrowed from a sign I saw on the internet: Flip Me Off if You (heart) Pedophiles. Impeach. Convict. Remove. Imprison.
Fun, huh?
I also brought along my collection of smaller signs, my favorite of which is My Cat Could Sh*t a Better President. I mean no offense to anyone who has a dog.
In other news, yes, in case you were keeping track, the writers’ group happened Friday evening. I showed up, because that is what I do.
Here are the five words:
horror
puzzle
family
glistened
memory
And here is what I wrote in twenty minutes.
The day remained in my memory long afterward. I’ve had years to process the horror, but it clings like dust. Or maybe I’m the one who is clinging. My mother was barefoot. Rain glistened on the roof of the nursinghome. I remember that clearly, just before she ran into the street. She had already departed, but we locked her up in our misguided attempt to keep her with us. That is how it goes with family. Just when you think you’ve figured it out, just when you are certain, once and for all you have solved the puzzle, the most important piece goes missing.
I didn’t write much because I left part way through to cough in the restroom. I breathed in something. That happens sometimes. Breathing, I mean.
Three of the writers were at the protest on Saturday. I saw them getting into their car as I was walking to mine. Two of the writers were busy talking to friends, but one person recognized me. We exchanged compliments on our respective signage and went on our way.