If Only We're Brave Enough

A  single year ago, We the People were blissfully unaware of the impending crisis called COVID-19. I was dealing with the crisis of an idiot-induced basement flood. The first impeachment of Feckless Leader was underway.

What a difference a year makes. 

My basement is a lovely space that is happy, friendly, and a pleasure to fold laundry in. I ended up getting rid of my ancient Bow Flex, and I remain undecided on what will ultimately replace it. I do need some kind of exercise equipment, but I have yet to figure out what. But coming in through the garage door just makes me smile. 

COVID has impacted everything we do and will do for at least another year. Late in 2019, one of my travelers told me there was a virus in China and I shouldn't book anyone to Wuhan, and if I did, I should warn them. I mentioned it to my boss at the time, and we both mentioned it to our site manager. At that time, word came back that "they" had heard something about it, but no action was to be taken at the time. By this time last year, questions were beginning to be asked, but not much was happening. Now, we are all rushing to get vaccinated and it turns out the previous administration not only didn't give a shit about the pandemic, all those "plans" to get the vaccine out to states and humans were in the same folder with the biggest, bestest health care plan this country has ever seen.  In other words, there was no plan.

And new articles of impeachment are being delivered to the Senate tonight. I have mixed feelings about this, and I don't really want to write about it tonight. I will say I wish there was a way to hold him accountable for his words and bar him from running for public office ever again without putting this nation through another trial that is going to fail for all the reasons you already know. So let's leave it for another day.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Still, last Wednesday, instead of wearing my usual sweats, I dressed up. I put on my pearls. I cried when I saw them walking up the Capitol steps. When Kamala and Doug emerged from the Capitol onto the platform, I bawled like a baby. Seriously. Tears of relief. When Joe and Jill came out, I cheered. I grinned like a Cheshire Cat as St. Amy of Minnesota did her thing, I stood for Lady Gaga's National Anthem, and I could barely breathe during Amanda Gorman's poem, The Hill We Climb. 

I thought President Biden spoke well; his measured tone was that not of Commander-In-Chief, but of Comforter-In-Chief. His words were meant to be a salve for the aching wounds of the past four years, especially those past two weeks:

This is America’s day.

This is democracy’s day.

A day of history and hope.

Of renewal and resolve.

 

Through a crucible for the ages America has been tested anew and America has risen to the challenge. Today, we celebrate the triumph not of a candidate, but of a cause, the cause of democracy. The will of the people has been heard and the will of the people has been heeded.

 

We have learned again that democracy is precious. Democracy is fragile.

 

And at this hour, my friends, democracy has prevailed.

 

So now, on this hallowed ground where just days ago violence sought to shake this Capitol’s very foundation, we come together as one nation, under God, indivisible, to carry out the peaceful transfer of power as we have for more than two centuries.

 

We look ahead in our uniquely American way – restless, bold, optimistic – and set our sights on the nation we know we can be and we must be.

Yeah, I know it's a speech. But it was a speech everyone needed to hear at that moment, two weeks after the attack on the Capitol. There needs to be a moment when everyone can breathe a sigh of relief before resuming the standard operating procedures of obstructionism. 

© Patrick Semansky/AFP

What I do want to talk about is the grace, elegance, and beauty of Amanda Gorman's words. Her poem, The Hill We Climb, is exquisite. Through the eyes of a young woman, we get a glimpse of another America, one that struggles, that is rife with faults, misconceptions, and presumptions, but that recognizes the potential of possibility, hope, and diversity. As my friend Bettelynn commented, she was "dancing to her words with her hands." as she spoke. That is such an apt way to describe Ms. Gorman speaking the her own words. I could barely breathe as I listened to her. Her voice, her composure, her surety, and those hands dancing as she spoke...how can you not become a devotee of this poet? If you have not read it, here it is in its entirety:

When day comes we ask ourselves,

where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry,

a sea we must wade.

We've braved the belly of the beast,

We've learned that quiet isn't always peace,

and the norms and notions

of what just is

isn't always just-ice.

And yet the dawn is ours

before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

Somehow we've weathered and witnessed

a nation that isn't broken,

but simply unfinished.

We the successors of a country and a time

where a skinny Black girl

descended from slaves and raised by a single mother

can dream of becoming president

only to find herself reciting for one.

And yes we are far from polished.

Far from pristine.

But that doesn't mean we are

striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge a union with purpose,

to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and

conditions of man.

And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us,

but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,

we must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms

so we can reach out our arms

to one another.

We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true,

that even as we grieved, we grew,

that even as we hurt, we hoped,

that even as we tired, we tried,

that we'll forever be tied together, victorious.

Not because we will never again know defeat,

but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision

that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree

and no one shall make them afraid.

If we're to live up to our own time,

then victory won't lie in the blade.

But in all the bridges we've made,

that is the promise to glade,

the hill we climb.

If only we dare.

It's because being American is more than a pride we inherit,

it's the past we step into

and how we repair it.

We've seen a force that would shatter our nation

rather than share it.

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.

And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed,

it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth,

in this faith we trust.

For while we have our eyes on the future,

history has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption

we feared at its inception.

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs

of such a terrifying hour

but within it we found the power

to author a new chapter.

To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.

So while once we asked,

how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?

Now we assert,

How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was,

but move to what shall be.

A country that is bruised but whole,

benevolent but bold,

fierce and free.

We will not be turned around

or interrupted by intimidation,

because we know our inaction and inertia

will be the inheritance of the next generation.

Our blunders become their burdens.

But one thing is certain,

If we merge mercy with might,

and might with right,

then love becomes our legacy,

and change our children's birthright.

So let us leave behind a country

better than the one we were left with.

Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,

we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west.

We will rise from the windswept northeast,

where our forefathers first realized revolution.

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.

We will rise from the sunbaked south.

We will rebuild, reconcile and recover.

And every known nook of our nation and

every corner called our country,

our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,

battered and beautiful.

When day comes we step out of the shade,

aflame and unafraid,

the new dawn blooms as we free it.

For there is always light,

if only we're brave enough to see it.

If only we're brave enough to be it.

Thursday morning, I woke up unafraid to turn on the news. Seriously. I know that the division and rancor will not soon go away. The paramilitary movements have been driven farther underground which is not a good development. Two sides of this political divide are not gonna have some kinda Kumbaya moment to suddenly seek compromise. The best we can hope for is that legislators begin to legislate for all instead of down party lines. Yeah, that's a big jump,  but we need daring Congressclowns willing to take that leap of faith for We, the People. 

Lastly, there is laughter. The Bernie memes are funny without being mean. How refreshing is that?  Even Bernie thinks they're funny. We, the People, need that; we need to laugh at something without rancor.  We need to stop hating each other. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o' the Week

Get a vaccine as soon as you are able. 

Gee, isn't that simple.