I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge—even wisdom. Like art.—Toni Morrison, in a 2015 essay for The Nation
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Word-work is sublime … because it is generative; it makes meaning that secures our difference, our human difference – the way in which we are like no other life. We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.—Toni Morrison, in her Nobel lecture in 1993
CURRENT EVENTS
TONI MORRISON too
Toni Morrison died yesterday at the age of 88. “Rest in power.”
When I began teaching English, I was already a great fan of Toni Morrison. I photocopied her entire first novel, The Bluest Eye, to use for one class and later was able to order classroom sets. A student came up to me after class and asked where he could find her poems. She doesn’t write poetry, I said. I mean that poem you read in class. He was talking about this:
Nuns go by as quiet as lust, and drunken men and sober eyes sing in the lobby of the Greek hotel. Rosemary Villanucci, our next-door friend who lives above her father’s cafe, sits in a 1939 Buick eating bread and butter. She rolls down the window to tell my sister Frieda and me that we can’t come in. We stare at her, wanting her bread, but more than that wanting to poke the arrogance out of her eyes and smash the pride of ownership that curls her chewing mouth.
The story is of Pecola Breedlove who will be raped by her father and utterly ruined. This is no spoiler. Morrison tells readers this on the very first page. Her concern is not what happens but how. She writes that why is difficult, but this is a novel about love and it is the how of love that she reveals in The Bluest Eye. Pecola’s brutal father destroys her. The narrator Claudia’s loving father protects her. Parents all seem harsh: “Adults do not talk to us—they give us directions. They issue orders without providing information. When we trip and fall down they glance at us; if we cut or bruise ourselves, they ask us are we crazy. When we catch colds, they shake their heads in disgust at our lack of consideration. How, they ask us, do you expect anybody to get anything done if you all are sick? We cannot answer them.”
The scene begins in iambic pentameter and ends a couple of pages later—
But was it really like that? As painful as I remember? Only mildly. Or rather, it was a productive and fructifying pain. Love, thick and dark as Alaga syrup, eased up into that cracked window. I could smell it—taste it—sweet, musty, with an edge of wintergreen in its base—everywhere in that house. It stuck, along with my tongue, to the frosted windowpanes. It coated my chest, along with the salve, and when the flannel came undone in my sleep, the clear, sharp curves of air outlined its presence on my throat. And in the night, when my coughing was dry and tough, feet padded into the room, hands repinned the flannel, readjusted the quilt, and rested a moment on my forehead. So when I think of autumn, I think of somebody with hands who does not want me to die.
There is enormous wisdom in these pages. It is not the most popular Morrison novel but one of the shortest. It shows up in standardized test questions and college courses. Many students have written essays about the novel in order to get into college. More have emailed me from college to thank me for introducing them to her work.
I taught Toni Morrison’s first novel for most of twenty-five years and assigned that opening passage every year I taught. It was one of the few disappointments of my MFA program that not a single person recommended her novels or referenced her work in a craft talk. Seriously. Not one.
Perhaps it was judged too high for graduate students to aspire to? In my own teaching, I always aimed above what my students thought they could do. Morrison always aimed high. The only path to excellence is to aim higher than our reach, to point the way to better than what we think we are capable of. Sometimes we surprise ourselves. I think many of my students were astonished at their own accomplishments. I hope they were.
Underestimating our capacity as a nation is equally problematic. When we assume that the United States deserves no better than a bully for a president, when we assume that it is too soon for a black or gay or woman president, we doom ourselves. We deserve better. It is the ideal upon which our country was founded. We deserve to strive and push beyond our comfortable complaisance into greatness. Isn’t greatness what the Founders had in mind?
Those eighteenth century wealthy white men aimed for a nation where people are judged by the content of their character rather than by their birth. Wasn’t that an amazing goal for such entitled folk who had all been raised to accept the divine right of kings? Of course they would not be comfortable in our society today, where a man dismissed as “white trash” can become president. (I am not talking about Trump who sits on a gilded toilet.) Their ideals far outstripped their capacity for justice.
Our ideals should always frighten us a little. I did my best as a teacher to break down complex tasks into clear and manageable steps. We must continue doing that as a nation. As Toni Morrison did in her novels: push the envelope, they say. Step out into our own idealistic world.
Step out.
“Toni Morrison, 88, winner of the 1993 Nobel Prize in Literature and the 1988 Pulitzer for fiction, died on Monday night at the Montefiore Medical Center in New York. Robert Gottlieb, Morrison’s longtime editor at Knopf, said in statement, ‘She was a great woman and a great writer, and I don’t know which I will miss more.’ Sonny Mehta, chairman of Knopf, said: ‘Toni Morrison’s working life was spent in the service of literature: writing books, reading books, editing books, teaching books. I can think of few writers in American letters who wrote with more humanity or with more love for language than Toni. Her narratives and mesmerizing prose have made an indelible mark on our culture. Her novels command and demand our attention. They are canonical works, and more importantly, they are books that remain beloved by readers.’ ”
“One of her most provocative public commentaries came during what she saw as the persecution of President Bill Clinton during the Monica Lewinsky scandal. In a polarizing New Yorker magazine essay, she observed that Clinton, his ‘white skin notwithstanding,’ was ‘our first black President.’
” ‘Blacker than any actual black person who could ever be elected in our children’s lifetime,’ Ms. Morrison wrote in that article, published in 1998, a decade before Barack Obama, the son of a Kenyan father and a white American mother, occupied the White House. ‘After all, Clinton displays almost every trope of blackness: single-parent household, born poor, working-class, saxophone-playing, McDonald’s-and-junk-food-loving boy from Arkansas.’ ”
She thought we would not be ready for an actual black president in her lifetime. Thank goodness she was wrong about that.
And I was wrong about Toni Morrison writing poetry. Here are five.
“In short, this is a full novel — rich, slow enough to impress itself upon us like a love affair or a sickness — not the two-hour penny dreadful which is again in vogue nor one of the airless cat’s cradles custom-woven for the delight and job-assistance of graduate students of all ages.”—from Reynolds Price’s review of Morrison’s Song of Solomon (1977)
WELL REGULATED?
Chant of “Do Something!” breaks out as OH Gov Mike DeWine speaks at a vigil in #Dayton.
from a reader comment on The Washington Post:
Do something.
What do you want done.
I suggest
Ban assault type firearms like AK-47
Limit clip /magazine capacity.
Pass a federal Mulford Act type law that Reagan signed when governor of California which mandated 5 years in the clink for anyone carrying a loaded gun in public.
Close gun show loophole
Mandatory background checks.
Put assault type weapons under the 1934 National Firearms Act which required owners of machine guns and short barrelled long guns to register with federal authorities and submit to fingerprinting.
Treat assault weapons the same way.
It will not be enough, but we need to do something.
What we have among the NRA gun advocates is a sickness. It is a perversion. It is a misunderstanding of history and a complete lack of common sense. Guns do not make us safer. Though a gun lobby Act prevents the government from compiling statics, we can be pretty sure that the number of guns in private hands contributes to unnecessary death.
Until a few decades ago, only the gun lobby thought indiscriminate gun ownership was an absolute right, and they have spent fortunes getting their way. It’s time they were stopped. The second amendment did not come first in the Bill of Rights. It should not be the only right American citizens value. It should not be valued over human life. It does not reflect our current needs or the threats we face as a nation. The founders had something very different in mind when they wrote in a protection for the right to bear arms. Single shot, muzzle loader. A well-trained archer was more deadly in the early days of our nation. (No joke. Look it up. And then there is the “well-regulated militia” that we no longer rely on since we have a standing military larger than most of the rest of the world put together and hundreds of bases all over the world, including in countries with which we do not have diplomatic ties. How does any of this even make sense?)
Something must be done and now. However, if we simply ban the “bad weapons” we will continually be at the mercy of money-and-power-motivated people who will find a way to skirt the law.
It has always seemed to me that we are dealing with the very real threat of dangerous weapons backwards. Instead of saying people cannot have this or that, be positive. Approve guns. Don’t ban them. Allow the “well regulated” ownership of hunting rifles and occasional handguns. Allow ownership among people who meet a minimal standard of behavior and fitness, safety protocols and training. Make this need-based. Allow ownership among sports hunters, subsistence hunters (such as the local hunters I know who fill their freezers), people with occupations that put them at risk such as locksmiths, and collectors.
Do not approve sales to anyone of weapons that have no practical application. Several years ago on Facebook I made a similar statement and a former student responded that every hunter needed an assault-style weapon when going after deer. And then I just sat back and watched other former students who actually had hunted deer their entire life tell him he was wrong. (They might own them, just for fun, but useful for hunting? There wouldn’t be meat left to eat!)
I probably know people who will object to my proposal, but most of the actual hunters I know would be onboard, I think, even if they had to give up a couple of toys. The government should approve them, buy back the ones civilians should never have had in the first place, regulate them well.
“It’s really just scapegoating people with mental health issues,” says Dr. Seth Trueger, an assistant professor of emergency medicine at Northwestern University. And while rates of mental health conditions such as depression, anxiety and suicidal behavior are on the rise in the U.S., Trueger says other nations have similar problems and experience far fewer mass shootings. “Other countries have the same kind of mental health issues we have, the same kind of violent video games we have, the same religiosity that we have. All that stuff is just a distraction” from the need for better gun control, he says.
That position is hardly new. Studies show that a relatively small percentage of violent crimes are perpetuated by people with diagnosed mental health issues, and that gun access—not mental health symptoms—is the primary predictor of firearm violence. As a result, an increasingly large and vocal cadre of doctors has been arguing for years that gun violence is more an issue of access and regulation than it is mental health. Groups including the American Academy of Pediatrics and the American Medication Association are active in advocating for stronger gun laws and more widespread violence-prevention programs, and the American Psychological Association regularly cautions against blaming mass shootings on mental health.
“Routinely blaming mass shootings on mental illness is unfounded and stigmatizing,” read a statement the APA issued on Aug. 4, after the Dayton tragedy. “The rates of mental illness are roughly the same around the world, yet other countries are not experiencing these traumatic events as often as we face them. One critical factor is access to, and the lethality of, the weapons that are being used in these crimes. Adding racism, intolerance and bigotry to the mix is a recipe for disaster.”—Time
BIRTH RIGHT
The beach is empty when we go out most days. On weekends there are crowds sometimes. Houses owned by people who do not live here sometimes have a dozen or more “guests.” The world is more crowded, but it doesn’t have to be.
I have always supported abortion rights because I believe all children should be born wanted. No child should be born because their mother made a mistake or a man did or because she had no choice. Despite statistics suggesting that many (or even most) pregnancies are unplanned, it has always seemed to me that a person should not ever be born into this world because of an accident.
An article posted today suggests another reason that birth control and abortion rights are critical:
I simply could not have existed, as I am, in any other preceding time or place. . . I could have been a professional writer at any period since the 17th century in Britain or in France. But I could not have combined this latter with a life as a sexually active woman until the introduction of contraception.—Angela Carter
The third excellent reason, perhaps the most critical reason, comes up in most articles discussing women’s health. When given the choice, women have smaller families because they can do better for two children than for six. For every kid who grew up in a large family, loving every minute there is an overworked parent. For every one of those happy-childhood kids there are a dozen with worse memories, with fewer opportunities, with hunger and necessary neglect. Often the boy of the family is spoiled—so common it is a cliché—because for some reason the parents know that child is the last. Hysterectomy, in past generation, was a common stopping point.
Paley had an abortion when she was married, pregnant for the third time, unwell, and “exhausted with these two tiny little kids; it was just about all I could do to take care of them. . . My whole idea in my heart had always been to have five, six children—I loved the idea of having children—but I knew I couldn’t have this kid.”
The planet could do with fewer humans in it. World population has quadrupled in my lifetime and is chairing ahead toward ten billion before the end of this century. The depletion of resources, global warming, starvation, disease . . . population is always controlled. Better women had the choosing and control.
Yet this morning I read in a national newspaper that Japan is alarmed that women are choosing not to marry and have children. The author puts blame this on a culture where women are expected to shoulder the burden of housework, childcare and elder care. It is possible that men are making the same choice, but the article did not explore that possibility. It is possible, too that overwork makes marriage and child raising a challenge for almost everyone in Japan. Yet, throughout this discussion, the fact remains that Japan is seriously overpopulated, that it is as highly vulnerable to global warming as any country. (Tokyo will not likely be under water in fifty years, but Shanghai and many European and American cities will be. New Orleans anyone?) It cannot produce all the food it needs to feed its population. People choosing to remain single and without children, despite inconvenience to the labor force, is probably good news.
Birth control, reproduction as a choice instead of as a burden is an inevitable result of opportunity. And not everyone wants that opportunity to be available, particularly not for women. Barefoot and pregnant was very much a strategy for keeping women down.
“What men frequently do when they want to manage and govern women,” Toni Morrison has commented, is to “focus on their babies—whether they’re having them or not having them. Reproductive organs become the focus.” Adrienne Rich wrote that “Women are controlled by lashing us to our bodies.”
My community is far more populous than it was when I was a little girl or when my mother was small or before that when only one person lived here alone in the nineteenth century. Of course, he is rarely counted because he was a Native person. None or one or two children. That is what we are entitled to. Having a large family in this world today is a sin against the planet and our future on this planet. I believe that, have believed it since I was a young girl and first understood the population bomb. I watched the woods and pastures where I had played be paved over, split level homes springing up like dragon’s teeth in a terrible mythology.
Give us emptiness. Give us land not relegated to “highest and best use” which translates as development and dollars. Give us wild place of beauty and possibility.
A little peace and quiet please.
VISIT the WC
Each of our sons has brought his family for a visit this summer. For several summers we have hosted everyone at once, including cousins. After last year’s reunion, we acknowledged to one another that we were just too old (too tired, too house-proud?) to have thirteen people in our home. We are sorry to let that long weekend go but relieved too.
Friday, our younger son and daughter-in-law brought their two. Ruby has been in the ocean a dozen times, never wearing a bathing suit. She told me she only wears her suit in a pool or “a lake or something.” There has been one dress or another hanging on the line since Friday afternoon. Logan is content digging in sand and collecting crab claws. He is a preschooler and pissed at the cape, well below the high tide line. There is an excuse for little children the better part of half a mile from a toilet.
Last evening, before the sun set and well before darkness, fourteen people and three dogs staying in a local rental house partied on the beach. They were loud and drinking and put an entire log on their fire. One very drunk woman walked up our path and deliberately used our sitting log as a partial screen while she pissed. From my window I watched her reveal her pale butt and simply could not believe it. I walked out to tell them that I lived here and my grandchildren played where she pissed. She said she was sorry. Sorry? “What were you thinking?” I said. “What do you want us to do?”
In November this might not be such an issue. In late fall and winter, the tide washes up high into the rocks above where this woman squatted. But this is August. The tide mostly leaves fifty or a hundred yards of dry sand, with the occasional sneaker not coming anywhere near that spot. Which is to say: We should not be expected to live with her drunken blunder for months.
People on vacation. People out of the city. People to whom the rules of common decency do not apply. They were, perhaps unsurprisingly, a youngish, affluent, white group. Fourteen adults, one of whom could not be bothered to walk back to the rental house to take a leak. People who think it’s okay to piss in public if there is not so much of the public around.
In past summers children have built rock castles in our path, adults have accidentally kicked rocks into it. A man once built a fire in a wind-sheltered spot in our path through our hedge (which is not actually public property). People have come into our yard to take wood for their own beach fire and routinely dismantle laid fires we have set up on the beach.
Clearing our path and setting the log with stones to make it steady was the work of several days. That log has been used by many people this summer. Old couples have rested there. Young couples have sat and watched the sun go down. We have sat on the log ourselves, of course. Gary vows that this is the last year he will build a “fort” for our use. It’s too bad.
CLEARING THE DECKS
I could have posted the photo of the crow parents showing their offspring a pair of running shoes on a log or the passage of pelicans. Instead, a pattern in the rock.
Yesterday Gary drove to Astoria and waited an hour to hand over our two cable boxes. I did not renew Acorn (which is why I watched all of Poirot last week). I stopped our subscriptions to Washington Post and The New York Times. I receive free regular information from Smithsonian and The Guardian and blogs and poetry journals, and we will continue to support several charities. From Smithsonian:
SMARTNEWS Keeping you current
Ethiopia Plants 350 Million Trees in 12 Hours—a New Record
The government claims that volunteers at 1,000 sites participated in the coordinated reforestation efforts
I tried watching the debates this evening but the first hour was taken up with arguing about whether Americans should be “forced to give up our chosen health insurance plans.” I wonder what America these people (the questioners and some of the candidates) live in? I do not know anyone who actually has much choice about their insurance plan. Maybe if I owned a large company I could chose. Five years ago when I had insurance through my employer, I could chose from three levels of one plan. I was allowed so many dollars to spend and I could bet I would get sick and spend my entire allowance or bet I would be healthy and take one of the cheaper plans and pocket the difference. It wasn’t much of a choice but it’s more than most Americans have.
Most of us, if we even have insurance through employment, are, A) stuck with whatever our employer offers. Or if we are buying insurance on the open market, B) our choice is between coverage that costs more than we can possibly afford and a plan that takes half our salary. Not much of a choice for anyone.
People work at jobs and in places they hate because they cannot afford to be without insurance. They work longer hours than they should because they need so-many hours to qualify. If they choose to cut hours to take care of family or are sick themselves or find a job they like better and lose coverage, they risk having to do without.
That’s not choice.
One candidate repeated that Medicare-for-all would close hospitals. This has been proven to be untrue. Hospitals would like us to believe it’s true, but it’s a lie. (Even my local hospital is the sleekest, most modern, well-appointed building in the area. Private rooms are nice and all, but medical care is supposed to be their goal, and I have had too many dealings with them, have witnessed too much in the ER.) Another claim was that Medicare-for-all would be easy and cheap, which is probably also untrue. Change is always hard.
What everyone agrees on is that the current system is better than it was in the past but not nearly good enough. We need to change the system to ensure that everyone receives the care they need and the insurance companies should have no say in how that is done. I would argue that sometimes the hard thing is exactly what we have to do.
Some years ago now, a single woman complained to me about how unfair it was that married people with children (me) had their entire family covered while she only had coverage for herself. She should receive a discount or be paid more. I pointed out that my entire family’s medical costs over the previous five years were less that hers had been in the last six months. (True, though not typical—but she had a raft of health issues, some of which were the result of her own unhealthy choices.)
She said: “Insurance companies don’t care how much my care costs.” Say what?
Insurance companies exist to profit. I buy insurance to ensure that I am not financially ruined by the costs of medical care. In case people didn’t know, medical expenses are the single most common reason people in the U.S. declare bankruptcy. It’s a gamble—break a leg, have a child with serious health issues, a mystery illness . . .
Insurance is a gamble where the house always wins. These companies do not exist to help anyone but themselves, they exist to make a profit. Long before our collective premiums add up to less than our health care costs, the premiums have been raised to ensure that the company can skim its percentage off the top. (Is their profit margin 23% as was claimed last night? I wish my savings earned such a return!) I do not smoke or drink to excess, I exercise daily, take no prescription drugs, and have no chronic health problems. This saves me a few dollars a month for my supplementary catastrophic Medicare policy. But if I were thirty years old and diabetic and looking for health insurance? Ouch.
Medicare has operating expenses of 2-3%, insurance companies take 23%. The math is simple here. Whatever system we come up with to replace private insurance will cost less per person while covering everyone. Will unions renegotiate pay once their employers no longer pay medical premiums? You better believe it. Will taxes go up? Probably, for many they will, but my employer paid well over ten thousand dollars for my insurance. It would have been nice to have yearly cost-of-living raises, and I might have had them if they had not used my medical insurance costs as an excuse to hold back. You think?
The average person in sixty-three countries receives care through some form of Universal Health Care and pays a fraction of what we do here in the United States. They live longer and healthier lives, their babies die less often, and they do not have to worry about a change of work costing their coverage. It is foolish to accept the argument that what works in dozens of other countries cannot work here.
Sure it can.
Nations with universal healthcare.
My husband and I have done our best to simplify our home and our lives. But terrible things do happen even when we have ever-so-carefully planned otherwise. Insurance is a way of playing safe against the risk of losing everything. The problem in the United States is that playing safe costs us more than it should—in dollars and peace of mind.
WHAT WE WANT
Headlines in the United States concern politics, specifically disappointment that Mueller testified exactly as he said he would. It’s all in his report. The man in the Oval Office is a liar and cheat and does not care what happens to anyone so long as he’s at the top of the news. The news in the United Kingdom is about their new Prime Minister and the record-breaking heat. A few headlines down find concerns about logging in Brazil:
Deforestation of the Brazilian Amazon has surged above three football fields a minute, according to the latest government data, pushing the world’s biggest rainforest closer to a tipping point beyond which it cannot recover.
—Amazon deforestation accelerating towards unrecoverable ‘tipping point’, The Guardian
The photo above shows a vast area turned from forest to farmland. That forest feeds oxygen to the world, converts pollutants to pure cooler air. We need a stable climate, we need to preserve a livable world. The ocean of humanity needs the ocean’s temperature to stop rising. If humanity is to survive we need our appetites to cool. As Americans get fatter, farmland grows to feed our desires. This is not about need, it’s about what we want.
We know that plastic bags, meat production, air conditioning, driving, flying, use of fossil fuels in general contribute to global warming. Endangered tropical hardwood on the dining room floor. Some of these activities are more avoidable than others. Some of these activities are more damaging than others, but we don’t want to stop.
Assuming the plane is full, an individual’s share of a single one-way flight from coast to coast of the U.S. contributes greenhouse gases equivalent to driving a car for a year. We would still have to get home, so that’s another year. Airports and air travel have always been subsidized by our taxes. Like the tobacco industry, we aggressively protect the things we want, whether they are good for us or not.
Like our president, we want what we want and we do not want to hear the nay-sayers. We will contribute to the cause in some way that does not cost too much and make up for our use of endangered hardwoods or vacation to Europe or steak at dinner, the plastic bottles of fizzy water my husband is fond of. There are alternatives, there is sacrifice, but like most people, we don’t want to bother. We want what we want.
I wanted this little shell—delighted to find a whole snail shell. It is occupied by a hermit crab so I put it back into the water. You can just barely see its legs to the left of the shell. The little hermit crab just wants to live.
SENTENCE
The current cover story of The Atlantic describes the crime most likely to escape prosecution. It’s rape. And not for any of the reasons we have assumed for so long. People are no more likely to lie about having been raped than any other crime, but police are far more likely to think a rape victim is lying. Think about it. If someone says their sister was murdered or robbed, is the initial reaction doubt that the death or loss of property occurred? If you saw someone you actually recognized running off with your television, would that mean the police would not bother to investigate the theft?
And if that same person stole someone else’s television, and another, and another . . . ? Except what is stolen during a rape is person and privacy and a sense of safety and well being. The crime is violation, and often by someone known to the victim, which results in police assuming it’s probably untrue or a one-off and not prosecutable. And the police would be wrong about all of that. Often the rapist knows his victim and the next ones too. Unless he is stopped, he does not stop.
Each year, 125,000 rapes are reported across the United States.
In 49 out of 50 cases, the assailant goes free.
These figures are a sobering reminder that, even in the era of DNA testing and #MeToo, rape is the easiest violent crime to get away with. In her cover story for The Atlantic’s August issue, Barbara Bradley Hagerty offers a sweeping, heartbreaking analysis of why so few rape cases are investigated by police, let alone brought to trial.
What she discovers—from her dozens of interviews with victims, police officers, prosecutors, and researchers—is law enforcement’s abiding skepticism of women who report sexual assault. And evidence shows that reported predators often go on to attack again. “How many rapes could have been prevented if police believed the first victim?” Hagerty writes. “How many women would have been spared a brutal assault?” Her piece is an unflinching assessment of the nation’s collective inaction and a guide to where we might go from here.
Jeffrey Goldberg
Editor in Chief, The Atlantic
Also in the news: a woman in Arizona is convicted of having sex with a thirteen year old child. I haven’t read the story, but she was sentenced to 20 years in prison. I would assume she will have to register as a sexual offender.
A woman Gary knew in Tillamook County was stabbed and killed in front of her two little children. Her ex-husband drove to town, bought beer, and drove then to his father’s house: “I killed Judy.” The man was sentenced to 5-7 years for murdering his former wife. He threatened to kill everyone associated with his case, but got out of prison early on good behavior and immediately sued for custody of his children.
It makes me wonder.
GETTING ON WITH IT
From Wallowa Lake Lodge looking north as the sunrise does what it does, taking over the sky.
We meant to wait until Monday, though originally we thought we would have most of the furniture back into the kitchen and dining room yesterday. I had to put a second coat of varnish on the new piece of baseboard, the parts of the room that waited for proper cabinets. That’s been a twenty-year, thirty-five-year project. The cabinets finally in, but the base boards only finished last week. Then, after varnishing the rooms’s floors and baseboards, I came back for a second coat and got a little ambitious. Monday I put another coat on most of the floors. A week to cure and we thought, well, Monday is not too late for company coming Tuesday . . .
That’s confusing, huh? Yes, for us too. The floors were all dry enough today to walk on with bare feet or socks. The furniture around the edges of the room—huge pantry bookcase, pie safe, fridge, could come in without waiting because the floor they sat on is fully cured. The dining table has to wait till Monday.
The real problem was the fridge, which was in the hall facing out of the kitchen, blocking the doorway. Putting it back in place meant crossing over second-coated floor. Gary was suddenly in favor of buying a new fridge. Maybe next year, I kept saying. I think he just wanted the fridge back in the kitchen and buying a new one meant someone else would move it.
We moved it all ourselves. I made salal muffins after an hour beach walk (not so exhausting as the two and a half hours a day before). Gary figured out how to move the fridge without damaging the floor, moved the coffee maker back downstairs, and then began cleaning. I restocked the pantry and made soup and roasted strawberries we are too exhausted to eat. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning I will put the first coat of varnish on the two-foot section of baseboard I could not get to because the fridge blocked access. And then we will drive north and I will play Scrabble with a friend. Two games, we cheat and do not keep score.
In the afternoon I will carry on. Maybe I will empty and clean kitchen drawers or begin cutting fabrics.
This morning I irritated someone I respect, and that has distressed me more than it should. I wish it were possible that after reaching a certain age and making a lifetime’s share of mistakes that we just didn’t need to care anymore. We fix it and then move on without self-flagellation.
A wonderful woman once told me that the great thing about turning 70 was “no one expects you to look young anymore.” I look forward to that.
We watched the end of Tales of the City and Olympia Dukakis plays ninety-year old Anna Madrigal. Dukakis is eighty-eight and looks great. We remember again that we are cleaning out our lives along with the house. There is a lot that is not going back where it was. Getting rid of things is never so easy as the magazines make it sound.
I have a new quilt forming in my head, sorted colors by value and hue on my cutting board, and the first “draft” spreading across the carpet. I stare and stare at colors till they form a pattern I can sew together in my head. That’s how I rest.
TRUTH TO POWER
“Today, I am an inquisitor; I believe hyperbole would not be fictional and would not overstate the solemnness that I feel right now. My faith in the Constitution is whole, it is complete, it is total. I am not going to sit here and be an idle spectator to the diminution, the subversion, the destruction of the Constitution. …The subject of its jurisdiction are those offenses which proceed from the misconduct of public men. That is what we are talking about. In other words, the jurisdiction comes from the abuse or violation of some public trust. It is wrong, I suggest, it is a misreading of the Constitution, for any member here to assert that for a member to vote for an article of impeachment means that that member must be convinced that the President should be removed from office. The Constitution doesn’t say that. The powers relating to impeachment are an essential check in the hands of this body, the legislature, against and upon the encroachment of the Executive. In establishing the division between the two branches of the legislature, the House and the Senate, assigning to the one the right to accuse and to the other the right to judge, the framers of this Constitution were very astute. They did not make the accusers and the judges the same person.”
—Barbara Jordan, at the opening of the Watergate hearings
