ME. SEPTEMBER. 2020.

This post is about hair among other things. Once I was a little girl and already it was obvious my hair story wasn’t going to be brilliant.

Do you ever repeat to yourself…’I must make this work’…over and over when an important event or project is coming up? Well, that’s the way I’m feeling about September, all of fall really. I must make September positive…even pleasurable on occasion…worth having lived. Right? August hasn’t been easy. But September means fall. The start of the school year. The harvest. Cooler weather. The red and golden leaves of autumn. Baked acorn squash with butter and brown sugar. State fairs. If a Burqueno the sky filled with balloons in another month or so. Sweaters (if we’re lucky), raincoats if even luckier. Who doesn’t love fall?

So how to make any happiness out of fall 2020. Trump lives on; glaciers are melting; we’re witnessing racism so dangerous, so virulent it must soon be called genocide; Covid stalks wherever two or more are gathered…it’s appropriate to include a religious phrase in sentences with our godly president, don’t you think?

So school’s not quite, is, might be, starting. It’s hot, too hot to bake squash like mom would have right about now…butter…brown sugar . Fall’s not pretty for a couple months yet around here. No state fair or balloons, no reason to buy a new sweater for my empty workplace or the grocery store. Raincoat, yeah right.

Oh yeah, and about our world as we know it ending. But perhaps…just perhaps…women will save us.

But here’s the thing. I’m alive. And also when I was a teenage I wanted, more than anything, to have long hair to put in a swingy ponytail and to be able to dance well. You know…great big swingy skirt, great big swingy ponytail, cute little swingy body, bright red lipstick, maybe bright red flats. Now, finally 60+ years later my hair will soon be long enough for a ponytail (if Covid lasts until the election). Everything else in that fantasy image is gone…still can’t dance…but just think how that ponytail will swing on the treadmill.

Soon. A Ponytail.

There’s that. What else?

I don’t want to be sad in September. I could take little road trips on New Mexico’s back roads…and NM has some of the world’s best back roads. Long long stretches of just me, Ghost, and the two-lane. Plains, high desert, rolling hills, a mountain here, a mountain there, then suddenly I’m in them, all red soil and cliffs and forest or brown slopes amply decorated with pinon. Yes, I should do this…to remember how much I sometimes love New Mexico and how excellent life can be. Republicans be damned…I’ll go drive the land and be happy. Gotta go now…find ‘O Brother’ to play as I leave the city limits. And I’ll go to Smith’s tomorrow and get an angel food cake to put on the seat by me and just tear out a chunk now and then as I drive. September, I am ready.

I looked for a nice poem about golden leaves and migrating birds to end this post. But in keeping with my August mood I’m including the following instead. Seems more appropriate for the time.
News Report, September 1991 (Denise Levertov)

U.S. BURIED IRAQI SOLDIERS ALIVE IN GULF WAR
‘What you saw was a
bunch of trenches with
arms sticking out.’
‘Plows mounted on
tanks. Combat
earthmovers.’
‘Defiant.’
‘Buried.’
‘Carefully planned and
rehearsed.’
‘When we
went through there wasn’t
anybody left.’
‘Awarded
Silver Star.’
‘Reporters
banned.’
‘Not a single
American killed.’
‘Bodycount
impossible.’
‘For all I know,
thousands, said
Colonel Moreno.’
‘What you
saw was a bunch of
buried trenches
with people’s
arms and things
sticking out.’
‘Secretary Cheney
made no mention.’
‘Every single American
was inside
the juggernaut
impervious
to small-arms
fire.’ ‘I know
burying people
like that sounds
pretty nasty, said
Colonel Maggart,
But . . . .’
‘His force buried
about six hundred
and fifty
in a thinner line
of trenches.’
‘People’s arms
sticking out.’
‘Every American
inside.’
‘The juggernaut.’
‘I’m not
going to sacrifice
the lives
of my soldiers,
Moreno said, it’s not
cost-effective.’
‘The tactic was designed
to terrorize,
Lieutenant Colonel Hawkins
said, who helped
devise it.’
‘Schwartzkopf’s staff
privately
estimated fifty to seventy
thousand killed
in the trenches.’
‘Private Joe Queen was
awarded
a Bronze Star for burying
trenches with his
earthmover.’
‘Inside
the juggernaut.’
‘Impervious.’
‘A lot of the guys
were scared, he said,
but I
enjoyed it.’
‘A bunch of
trenches. People’s
arms and things
sticking out.’
‘Cost-effective.’

But soon fall. Things will seem better even if they’re not.

Fall 2019

 

2 Comments on “ME. SEPTEMBER. 2020.

  1. Well, did I miss something here, something positive? Oh yes, there was some. This has been unpleasant for us, for some it was/is quite horrible. But think what our parents went thru…WWII. It was difficult here, but not horrible on the home front and .if you went to war, it was horrible Our Great grandparents went thru the depression…the damned depression. So I think for us, mostly unpleasant. But, there is hope, there is always hope for a brighter future…seems to be a theme of Mr. Biden…Did I mention he is from Delaware?

    Like

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