It’s January 2, 2017 now but I’ve had guests and visitors and distractions so I declare TODAY the first official day of the new year. It appears that one of the (dis?)advantages of aging is the inability to live and think on more than one level at a time. I can’t read with other word-noise around me whether TV or music. I can’t think or write about anything even semi-serious with nearby conversation. Someone told me it’s called losing the focus-function! Oh well…I only have three sleepover-family guests during the year: my bro, wife, and dog; my California son; and my California granddaughter. When they’re here I find such great pleasure in their company; when they’re not here I think and write again.
Here’s my version of a New Year’s celebration when the year being celebrated is 2017. I realized this morning that I haven’t quite finished grieving; I went to California right after the election, then prepared for Christmas and company arrived and here I am this morning…playing various versions of Hallelujah over and over. Kind of like singing Shall We Gather at the River at a funeral. There, sixth time for Hallelujah this morning. Move on Marjorie.
I’ve been approaching this new world by seeking journalistic truth and contributing some dollars here and there to good causes. I guess the final thing for me to say about this phase of ‘the first month of the rest of my life’ is…it’s time to add a little action to words. Here are the questions for myself I posed a few days ago.
First how to know the truth of anything?—which I answered by recommending supporting real journalism. Secondly, how to support those standing between the new Know-Nothing Party and the most vulnerable among us? Thirdly, where are my brains and body needed to stand in opposition to the new dark ages—the American version. I really don’t want to march or gather for political causes or attend legislative sessions. Been there, done that…however who if not me? My friend and I agreed the other day that we do not see ourselves standing in front of the tank, flower in hand—confrontation seems best in the hands of the young. WRONG! Our generations broke our hopeful illusion of progress toward prosperity and peace—therefore we bought it and somehow have got to fix it ourselves—isn’t that how the expression goes? It must be us out there on the streets—we are the ones who created the shyster and gave him to our kids.
Okay, so now I’m an activist—passive activist (is that possible?) so far but on January 21st I’ll go march in Washington DC and before that I’ll spend a day at a Progressive Political seminar. Not much so far but it’s a start, a stirring from my slothful political ways.
Enough about me. I did make yesterday quite meaningful in terms of endings and beginnings. As mentioned earlier it began with Rufus singing Hallelujah as a farewell to the barely-civilized political world in which we thought we lived. Then I alternated the rest of the day between cleaning my apartment and streaming the last season of House of Cards. … No better way to prepare for the next 362 days of 2017 than spending a day with Frank and Claire Underwood. Although Frank and Claire have good manners, speak in complete sentences and smoke cigarettes once in awhile—on the other hand Claire and the Russian president…
One more time…HAPPY NEW YEAR!