THANKS, I NEEDED THAT

I think we all needed yesterday. I didn't realize how badly I needed to cry and laugh and cry some more. To hug my wife with joy. To dance in front of the TV. To cry yet again. To hear Amanda Gorman and see a star land on Earth. The whole thing, the inauguration, lifted up the nation, I think. It lifted up the world. Somehow, we dodged a bullet, and got through the last four years. 

Well, not somehow. We worked our asses off. We marched. We called our senators and representatives, over and over. We watched far too much MSNBC and CNN. We got into it on Facebook with our relatives and friends who bought into the Trump mythos. We took back the house in 2018. We kept on trying. 

And when the Pandemic came, we rose to the occasion as best we could, redoubled our efforts to change the minds of our friends who somehow bought into conspiracy theory after conspiracy theory. We read opinion pieces all the way through. We wore masks. We howled nightly. 

We did what we had to do. 

And we found strength we didn't know we had. Resolve hiding beneath our shockingly thin veneer. Some of us smoked a lot of weed. Or drank a lot of booze. Or wrote in a blog every damn day for months on end. We gave money to campaigns for the first time in our lives. And then gave more. We wrote postcards. We did whatever we had to do to make sure we could have a different President.

And we got the job done.

Yeah, we still have plenty of relatives and friends who think differently.

But not as many as we did before January 6. 

I think that sort of woke up some of them. How could it not? Still, far too many out there still buy the Big Lie. Still think the election was stolen from them. And we need to fix that.

But yesterday, for a brief moment, we were allowed to rejoice. To dance in the streets. To explode with glee like giddy children at fireworks over our nation's capitol. To say to ourselves "damn, that Katy Perry song is pretty awesome!" without a hint of irony. 

I want to feel like that more often. I want to be proud of humanity on a regular basis. I want to be lifted up, and I want to lift up others. I want to sing all day, and recite poetry, and dance.

I think we will need to keep our new found habits of staying involved. Of not letting a lie from a friend go without challenging it, in as respectful and courteous a way possible. 

We still have this pandemic. And global warming. And systemic racism. And income inequality. 

But we have the power to change this world. And don't ever let anyone tell you different. Those that say otherwise are usually either hoping to shut down said change, or they've given up and are ashamed of themselves, and rather than face that shame, they try to pull you down to their level.

Hell with that. 

We rise up. We sing. We marvel at music and kindness and love and unity and poetry. 

The toxins are leaving our souls. We are healing, and will continue to heal. 

And it will get better. I have no illusions there will be hard times ahead. And sorrow, and grief, and anger. I am certain I will write more entries about how fucked up the world can be, about how shallow and nasty people can be. How disappointing life can get. I have had enough hard times to know that. But they will pass. It all passes, eventually. 

Except love.

It is love that endures. 

I know it. I feel it in my bones. I think yesterday, we all felt it.

Here's a song. It's Katy Perry's Fireworks. 

WHAT A DIFFERENCE FOUR YEARS CAN MAKE

Four years ago, I was marching with a million plus people in DC.  We didn't break any windows, or kill any policeman. We simply wanted to make our voices heard. I think that's what you're supposed to do. Speak your truth, stand up to power, and not be crazy. It was a fantastic day, and made the idea of Trump as being charge a little easier to take. There was solidarity. Like minded individuals. Freedom and hope. 

I had just gotten my first screenwriting gig, and so was able to fly both Lisa and myself out there from Denver. We were both still in shock from that election, that horrible, strange election when the world seemed to turn upside down. Lisa knitted Pussy Hats, and off we went. 

I have never seen so many people in one place. I went to the first US Festival, lived in NYC for over a decade, saw Obama speak in 2008. Nothing compared to that crowd. 

Since then, we have seen so much. So many crazy, scary, maddening events. Charlottesville. George Floyd. A global pandemic. And most recently, the sacking of the Capitol. At times these past four years, I have felt like I was losing my mind. Or in the middle of one of those nightmares where you know you're dreaming but can't wake yourself up.

And then, today, I awoke.

I saw grace and glory and pride and respect front and center. 

I saw Kamala Harris, the first woman ever elected to national office, get sworn in as Vice President. I Lady Gaga and JLo sing songs of love and inspiration. I heard an amazing poet read a breathtaking piece. And I heard Joe Biden give the most happily received political speech in recent memory. 

I saw a new day dawn in the nation's imagination.

As some of you may know, I'm an Eagle Scout. I am a hippie, free thinking liberal commie pinko, but I am also a Boy Scout. I love the flag, American history, and this country. I got all three citizenship merit badges: Citizenship in the Community; Citizenship in the Nation; and Citizenship in the World. And I took them seriously. Sadly, Scouting these days has become politicized and is mostly influenced by the right wing of our world. But at least in my troop, back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, scouting was all about exploring the world, and figuring out your place in it. 

I have a deep love of democracy, inclusiveness, and the politics of the possible.

I was taught to try and be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient,  cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent. I don't always manage to be all those things. But I try.

I don't think our last POTUS was any of those things. 

For those who voted for him, all I have to say is: Grab Them by the Pussy.

Lament your loss, but don't forget, he said that. And meant it. 

OK. Maybe that wasn't too friendly. Or courteous or kind. 

But to say I don't think he was and is a foul person with no moral fortitude would make me untrustworthy.

For today's song, I'm sharing a video I took of this woman who was at the Women's March. She was over 90 and a Quaker, and exuded strength and grace. Enjoy.

And as a bonus, here's Copeland's Lincoln Portrait

THE THING WITH FEATHERS WAS ON TV 4 NIGHTS THIS WEEK

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson wrote that long ago, before any of us were around to fret and freak and deal with the world as it now is. Of course, she dealt with the Civil War, life before modern medicine, and never heard the Beatles, so she did know a thing or two about despair. And yet she wrote this beautiful poem.  Because it was true. Because that was how she saw things. Because, even though the world is often run by a bunch of selfish, stupid assholes, there is still the possibility for grace, for joy, for love in a weak and weary world. 

And I felt hope last night, watching Joe Biden give his acceptance speech. I felt joy the last four nights, listening to people with great spirit and conviction speak to our aspirations, to our loss, to our determination. I felt pride in humanity. There is still some goodness in us. All of us. Even the Orange One, I suspect, deep down in that damaged, wounded soul, has the faint glimmer of goodness. 

We have been through the wringer of late. Pain, fear, anger, sorrow. We've had the shit kicked out of us over and over. But we keep getting up, like Chumbawamba. We rise. We do whatever it takes. And we will get through this. We will have to deal with those who see things differently. With those who have listened to the crazy for too long. The Kool Aid drinkers, the Luddites, the Cranky Pants who try to convince themselves and whomever reads their FB posts that Hillary eats babies. 

Bring it on. 

I find too much of this world delightful to give up. Ever. There is sorrow and regret, but there is also love and laughter and music and The Beatles. And The Stones. And Nature. And Theatre. And Art. And Family. And Romance. And Dance. And Stars at night that form half remembered constellations. 

And Hope. 

We have two options. Lay down and fade away, or stand up and dance 'til the dawn. 

I have put on my boogie shoes. 

Let's do this. 

And for the love of God, VOTE!!!!!!!!

Here's a song. It's I Get Knocked Down by Chumbawamba.