Never Have I Ever ...

I’ve done that particular game on Facebook a few times. I’m not very exciting. There are usually a whole bunch of things I’ve never, ever done, and a few things I never, ever will. However, further into my ongoing discussion of age, never have I ever seen this much water!

I remember when the dam was built and how exciting it was to the community. It was beyond my comprehension that land would be covered with water in order to make other land safe from being covered with water. (If I don’t have that right, don’t tell me--it means I’ve been wrong for 60 years and the whole thing with dams and covering up entire towns with water is still beyond me.)

But, regardless of the dam, I never, ever remember this much water coming down in this short of a time. My prayers are with those who are harmed or threatened by flooding.

I wanted to be fearless by this age, you know? But even though my kids are adults and my grandkids either adults or a perfectly wonderful adolescent, fears accompany me through every day. Will something happen to them? Will their convictions and mores be denied them by a government that wants only its believers to have even the most fundamental of rights? My first great-grandson is little and sweet and ... his grandfather says ... chill. What will the world be as he grows up?

As you can probably tell, I’m having trouble writing this. Is anyone else sitting by their window on a Saturday morning looking out at the rain and wondering if there’s a message there? I am a person of faith--although my faith is being referred to these days as in-name-only because I don’t check all the right boxes--and I don’t pretend to know whether it’s a message or not. Is it a wake-up call telling us to take care of what we’ve been given? Or one telling us to honor only those to whom much has been given? To care for only those who live the lives we would choose?

One of my fears is ignorance, both my own and that of others. No, that’s not right--I don’t fear the ignorance; I fear that we’re too comfortable with it if it suits our own wants and needs. I don’t go to Target anymore because it leapt so eagerly to forego DEI, yet I buy from Amazon all the time. I carry my own shopping bags to lessen my use of plastics, and yet I buy iced tea in plastic jugs because I like it better than my own.

If admitting this doesn’t do anything except make me look alarmingly fallible in my efforts to do what’s right, that’s enough. I don’t like looking self-righteous (even when I am), but a certain degree of sanctimony doesn’t give me free reign to demand sameness from others.

Will I ever understand them, the ones who support the way things are now? No. Do I want to? Not so much. But they still have a place at the nation’s table. Their words still deserve to be said, their votes to be counted, and their needs to be met. But not more than anyone else’s. Not at all.

It saddens me, the way my writing circles around and around. I can’t help thinking it’s doing the drain thing and will eventually just fall silent. Although I don’t intend to open the Window to politics, it happens so often, doesn’t it? I apologize for that, because I never meant it to be a political column, but don’t apologize for the beliefs that cause it.

Just as I’m not perfect in those beliefs (see my record on plastics, Target, and Amazon above), I can’t pretend they’re not there, that I think everything’s going to be all right.

That’s one of those fears I spoke of, that it won’t all be all right. Never have I ever thought I’d feel that way.

Have a good week. Be nice to somebody.