HELPING TO HOLD EACH OTHER UP
HELPING TO HOLD EACH OTHER UP: Sometimes, much more often than I would like, some terrible new bit of news comes over the airwaves or though the internet. About the regime protecting pedophiles or attacking innocents or building concentration camps or intensifying efforts to corrupt and steal the next election (and therefore all ‘elections’ into the future) or something equally awful. And sometimes, having had enough, I get up and go outside, and listen to the drumming of woodpeckers and the scolding of squirrels, and look up into the tops of our 150 year-old pines. And I think something along the lines of, “This should not be happening. I live in the United States of America, have lived here since I was born, have known and loved this place and been proud of it, mostly, all my life—and this should not—cannot—be happening.” And I think, “My Grandad would not have believed this could be happening, and my Mother and Dad would not have believed it, nor my Uncle Wilbur—anti-fascist veteran of Monte Cassino and Anzio and North Africa. They would not have believed it—and I cannot believe it. And it should not be happening.”
And then I sigh, perhaps, and listen to the breezes in the pine boughs, and remember how long these trees have stood and all they have seen, since before the time of the family and ancestors I just mentioned. And I know… that even they—who have seen so many storms and droughts— have never seen anything like this. Not in this country. Not in my country. And I think again—this should not be happening.
And of course, I am right. It shouldn’t be. But it is. And to bemoan the idea that it shouldn’t be, is to avoid that simple fact—that it is. And the fact that, like the great old pines above and around me, in all their history and endurance, I have to stand up to the storm. Those are lonely moments—the ‘cannot be happening’ moments. But when I stand and look around at all the trees, helping to hold each other up, I remember that I am not alone. That so many others are feeling exactly the same, the same doubts and fears and frustrations—and are finding their own reserves of courage and endurance and defiance.
We help to hold each other up. Each day. Even when we are not at our strongest. And in remembering that the feeling of solitude is an illusion, I feel better. Perhaps I sigh again. And feel sad and angry again. But I don’t feel alone. Wherever you are, you are not alone either. Even if you are in a red, MAGA state or community, or even such a family. You are NOT alone. I am not going anywhere. And there are many bigger, stronger trees than I, that help to hold me up as well. We all help each other.
And maybe the storm will take us down. I don’t think so, but such things happen. And if so, that will be together, too. And meanwhile, we will help to hold each other up, to hold the sky up, to hold up values and ideals and traditions we have always believed in. There is a great shared dignity and purpose in that. It is a worthwhile way to be.
And we ain’t down yet.
(This is my latest Substack post. If you are able to be a paid subscriber there, at Notes From The Campfire@douglaswoodauthor, I would appreciate it! Link below)