Friday, Feb. 21, 2025

Josefina on Aunt Ceecee's lap Thursday evening, on hold with Verizon :-)

The reins are flailing in my grip. I can't keep the wild horses of each day's news under control.

I am, like all of you, struggling to swallow a firehose of news coming at me. I want to sort out the disinformation, understand at least a rudimentary level what is happening, and DO SOMETHING to slow our country's landslide into a plutocracy, a government by the wealthy.

Not everyone is even trying to pay attention, but those of us who are are feeling in over our heads.

I have been present in shraing my words for the last few days because my school schedule was foreshortened and canceled because of the weather. In other words, I had TIME to come to the page.

The fact is, most days I prep for classes at 5 a.m. and teach until 3:30, at which point my brain has frizzled to about 20% capacity. 

I then pick up my granddaughter from daycare and nestle into the best hour of my day.

After that, I fry, which means on "good days" I read, play a musical instrument or make something (like a puppet). But on many days it means I stare at my phone and doom scroll. 

I then make supper, FaceTime grandbabies, talk to the (adult) kids, and...crash.

Who has time to fight for Democracy? 

None of us. 

All of us. 

Thanks for listening,

Allison

Feb. 20, 2025

Due to frigid temps, my school started late today, which gave me time to write to my senators and representatives asking, directly, just who is the administrator for DOGE? This was asked of the White House press secretary yesterday and she evaded an answer. I want to know: Is it the unelected Elon Musk? Is it Trump directing Musk? We are watching our legislative branch abdicate its power to executive orders. Our elected officials are unwilling to stand firm to their oaths to uphold the Constitution. 

Next I sent an article from The Guardian about book banning to the journalists who have been writing on this topic of late. I shared it as well with a cluster of freshmen who have been asking lots of questions about what it means if a book is "banned," which books are "banned," and can I recommend any "banned" books they should read. 

We might be forming a book club to discuss banned books and help our school better understand why some people want to control the information available to others. 

Then, because I was well-coffeed and not yet due at school for an hour, I went ahead and wrote another hand-penned card to Senator Grassley. He is 92 (something like that). Let me say, as one committed to empirical evidence, I am not religious. But I know Grassley has used his faith to political expedience. Therefore I did not hesitate to invoke prayer in my message:

I am sharing my efforts of the day as humble encouragement to any of you who are unsure of how to face the daily onslaught against norms, truth, and Democracy. 

Anything is better than nothing. You do not need to do something momentous. You do not need to be articulate, let alone eloquent. 

I am here to join you in any and all resistance.

Allison

Paying Attention

The citizens of Hamelin (Pied Piper).
This is my puppet project that is
keeping me tethered to sanity. 

On Oct. 27, I committed to paying attention. It was ten days before the election, and our country was on tenterhooks. We knew, whatever the outcome, we would be facing the wildly unkown. If Harris won, Trump was unlikely to concede, given his actions after the 2020 election. This would most likely result in rage and disruption. If Trump won, the "difficult times" would not be immediate, but soon-coming as he took office.

And soon-coming is here.

Let me come clear:

When I vowed to pay attention, I thought I'd be recording my observations as MAGA denied and fought against a Harris victory. 

Instead, Trump won by collecting 48.9 percent of the popular vote against Harris's 48.3. (Do not let anyone tell you Trump's election was a landslide or a mandate.) 

This meant there was no immediate rioting in the streets. The party that respects the voting process lost; they acknowledged defeat.

----------

The next two months were an interlude, a suspension. Elon Musk dominated the news. After joining MAGA in late summer, he led the march of billionaires lining up to meet with Trump at Mara Lago. Still, everything was prelude. Nothing was yet "happening."

During this time I experienced waves of dread. I say "waves" because they billowed up and then subsided. I was troubled, anxious; nevertheless, Trump was not my first thought every morning. I pushed politics off my immediate to-do list. I had to. I had burned up stores of physical and emotional energy in the short months of the Harris campaign. 

So post election day, I granted myself a political reprieve. I met each new day with determination to stay in the moment. That got me through Thanksgiving... Christmas...my 65th birthday.

--------

And then, in the hours following Trump taking his (no hand on the Bible) vow to uphold the constitution, I witnessed (as did you) the "obeying in advance" of CBS, Washington Post, New York Times, and LA Times. Main Stream Media bowed down to prevent Trump from disabling them altogether. As a journalism teacher who monitors new organizations' adherence to ethics and unbiased reporting, I was gutted to see the lemmings march to the sea.

---------

Fast forward. Honestly, every day is a fast-forward. 

Today Trump posted Napoleon's words: "He who saves his Country does not violate any law." 

I keep expecting SOMETHING to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. One might think a president declaring his inviolable right to ignore the rule of law might be that straw. 

Or not. 

I am still determined to pay attention. 

I hope you are too.

Enough.

Allison

My Mother's Red Coat, etc.

When I arrived at Friendship Haven Sunday morning, my mom was sitting in the cafeteria, staring benignly ahead--at nothing. 

I had not seen her in six weeks. My sister had updated me on the subtle decline, but I was still taken aback to see a film of confusion over her eyes when I said "I'm Allison, your daughter, and I'm here to take you to church." 

"All right," she said, accepting but aloof: I was a stranger.

I brought my mother's "good wool coat" from her room and buttoned it across her increasing midsection. For 93 years, she'd been trim. Over time she has shrunk to 5'2", but after nearly two years in memory care, she's now closing in on 170 pounds. She eats whatever is set before her, determined to prevent waste. We've asked the staff to monitor her portion size, but does it really matter? Only that it makes the one remaining button of her favorite coat hard to clasp. 

Yes, we should maybe buy her a new coat. But she loves her red one, and changes rattle her. There is no way to win this fuzzy game we're playing.

By the time I had my mom in the car (no small feat), she seemed accepting that I was--if not specifically Allison her third daughter--at least a pleasant person willing to take her to church. 

On our five-minute drive, I sifted for safe conversation and landed on poems. My mother, of course, said yes when I asked her if she'd like me to recite "Invictus." I then veered to Edna St. Vincent Millay (her favorite) and she chimed in, laughing. In these moments, she is her best self, pillowed in deep memory. 

Lesson: Whatever it is you commit to memory--poems, Bible verses, the Lion King script--might someday bring you comfort--maybe even joy. 

-------------

My mother had several good moments during my visit. Four years ago, when she and my dad lived in my home through the first months of COVID, she was still writing in her journal and reading the dictionary. Now she no longer reads on her own, but on Sunday, I was happy simply to hear her read the Sunday school prayer aloud along with the class. I am watching the peeling away of her identity. Writing is gone. Reading independently is gone. Reading aloud is still there.

My sister had told me that Mom no longer stands up during the church service. So we stayed seated, holding hands. How subtly a mother's hand becomes the child's. 

Our never-very-good voices scratched out the hymns. When the acolyte brought us communion, Mom was confused. I held her chin in one hand and tipped the small cup of grape juice to her lips. She was my baby bird.

-----------

As we pulled away from the church parking lot, I made an effort to re-orient her by saying "This daughter is happy she could take her mother to church!" She responded with a laugh: "This mother is happy too!" Her flash of cognition delights--and stabs.

-----------

We arrived back at Friendship Haven an hour before the noon meal would be served. I expected my mom to be tired, and I suggested she lie down before lunch.

"Should we look at some things?" she asked. In the moment, she wanted our time together to continue. In the moment, I did too. I also wanted to keep my place on life's treadmill and get home and take my nap and write lesson plans and make supper and read and go to bed and wake up and take a shower go to school... 

So I told her I needed to get on the road. 

"I won't see you for awhile," she said with teary eyes. 

"I will come again soon," I said, my eyes matching hers.

"I love you, Mom," I said.

"I love you, sweetheart," she said.

It wasn't my name, but it was close enough.

Yes. Enough.
Be well.
Write.

Allison

Ready to Talk?

I 'm not ready to talk to Trump voters about politics. I simply don't trust myself. I might cry. I still feel a raw sense of betrayal. Weren't we, Americans, better than this? 

In the past three weeks, I've welcomed an easing of post-election heaviness. As in 2016, I am intentionally hosting joy and calm in my personal spaces: my home, my classroom, my mind. 

I am redoubling my efforts to juggle clubs (you know you want to!) and teaching my grandbaby to find her eyes, her nose, her neck. 

At school, I'm distributing little hand-shaped finger puppets to applaud good tries. We continue to laugh often. 

In my mind, I am reciting small poems and remembering the smell of homemade bread from my childhood. 

These are good things to do, regardless of election results. But in this moment my actions are attempts to protect my anxious heart. And even if the purpose is understandable, the time I spend buffering myself from reality is time Project 2025 unfurls without my resistance. My desire to tuck my head gently under my wing conflicts with what history tells us: silence is the friend of tyranny.

----

This is all to say that I realize I'm hiding from what comes next. The president-elect is daring Republicans to refuse his flagrantly abominable appointments. The world is responding to his tariff grenades with outrage. Mainstream media is quietly falling into line. Billionaires are lining up for Mar-a-Lago tet-a-tets. 

---------

I was a highly distractible student, but a few things from Mr. Carr's civics class have stayed with me: democracy, distribution of power, rule of law. 

How much of democracy's tenets are Trump voters willing to abdicate? I want to ask. 

And I want to hear their answers without crying.

Enough.
Be well.
Write.

Allison

Rule of Law? Meh...

Friday, Nov. 22, 2024

Today Trump selected Russell Vought to lead the Office of Management and Budget.

Vought is a co-author of the Heritage Foundation's Project 2025--remember that? It's the blueprint for what the American Civil Liberties Union calls "a roadmap for how to replace the rule of law with right-wing ideals." 

Think about that: "replace the rule of law." 

Consider what will replace the rule of law: the rule of wealth?  the rule of might? the rule of whoever can strong-arm power from others?  Yes, there are countries that function outside of the rule of law. We call them North Korea. China. Russia. Did Trump's voters understand they were voting to support this trajectory?

-------------

I know not all who read my words share my political perspective. A reader recently sent me a Bible verse "reminding me" that "there is no authority except that which God has established." This is a favorite quote shared by people who say Trump's re-election was ordained--while simultaneously denying such deference to Democratic administrations.

Square that circle.

I will try for a more cheerful tone in my next post. 

Enough.

Be well.

Write.

Allison

For the Record

History is written by the victors.

A year from now...
Four years from now...
A decade out...

I don't know who will be the victors writing history. I only know what I experienced today.

I canceled my account on X, née Twitter. I joined Twitter in 2009 when the site was young. I amassed a decent following and shared ideas about teaching and parenting and (eventually) politics. When Elon Musk bought the app a few years ago, I lightened my foot traffic, but still hung on. It is now a bridge too far. I really can't support anything--even using the free version of X--connected to Musk. I moved to Bluesky. Join me there.

I'm gobsmacked to see Musk glued to Trump's hip as the president-elect taps choices for appointments even The Onion didn't imagine.

My thoughts vacillate between two poles:

Pole 1) We'll get through this. Much of America understands checks and balances and the value of a shared understanding of freedom, democracy, and common decency. 

and

Pole 2) The boulder is rolling down the hill. We cannot stop it. Trump has made it clear he disdains the mores and civility that gave politicians guardrails in the past. He is ready to use recess appointments to people his power with yes-men (and god help me, yes-women).

-----------

I mentioned in yesterday's post that I'm now reading/teaching Animal Farm and In Cold Blood. As it goes for English teachers, I'm also reading Our Town with my AP lit kids, Catcher in the Rye alongside a precocious freshman, and The Bell Jar (because I haven't read it before). Plus I have a slim volume of On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder deskside.

But what I really need to re-read right now is The Handmaid's Tale. I have forgotten too much since I read it--rather late--a few years ago. What I do remember, what I've been thinking hard about, and what I now need to revisit is the blind-sided dismay experienced by Offred as the life she knows is sucked so swiftly into the unimaginable.

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I hope I can look back on these posts with a chuckle. Oh, how dramatic! What a worrywort you were! What a waste of emotional energy!

And that reminds me of what I tell my children when they come to me with anxious thoughts. In our anxiety, we experience the sensations of dread and hurt even if the events have not, actually, transpired. 

Let's not give our anxieties control of our guts.

But let's also not turn blindly away from the history now in the making.

Enough.
Be well.
Write.

Allison