Let me be clear, I have no time for ignorance. And I do not consider willful ignorance anything close to an excuse. People have free will. And, remembering my less than stellar experiences in school, most have at least as much native intelligence as I do. Or maybe even you. If they do not possess an honest understanding of what is going on, that is on them. They choose where they get their news and their information. They choose what sorts of ‘leaders’ they put their trust in. But you may notice that here, I never call those on the MAGA side ‘MAGATS.’ Don’t use that epithet. I don’t name-call. I seldom use profanity and never label someone with an obscenity. I feel I am perfectly justified–and needfully responsible–in clearly calling out words and actions that are stupid. Ignorant. Cruel. Fascist. Similar in far too many ways to the Nazi scourge of not so long ago. In many cases, in fact, more identical than similar.

So we have to see it. And we have to say it. And resist it. Hard.

But I said there was a balance. With hope, or something like it. Perhaps Emily Dickinson’s ‘thing with feathers.’ And that balance is there to leave room. I am not pulling up stakes. I’m not heading for Canada or Scotland or Timbuktu. And neither are all the republicans or MAGA’s in this country. That’s just a fact. And I like facts. I think they’re important. So, we leave a little room, as much as we can. For an eventual lessening of tensions. Some sort of raproachment. Am I desperate for it? No. Eager for it? No. Am I angry? Yes. Very angry? Yes.

But there is that fact. We are going to have to live together. We are going to have to find some sort of common ground. And there are signs. One of the signs is… fewer offensive signs. In yards, on porches, on pick-up trucks. This is real, and is being reported in many parts of the country.

There are legitimate cracks–in the MAGA base. In republican representation. Even in right-wing media. In polls, and in turn-outs for primaries and off-term elections. Some truly extraordinary swings in numbers. And even a just a whiff in republican oversight and congressional hearings.

There is the regime’s own ignorance, cruelty, and incompetence, becoming more evident by the day, especially since the monumentally, galactically stupid, war-of-choice launched on Iran. This is fracturing an already weakening base. The mid-term elections are looking like a potential wipe-out. We have to make certain those elections happen–against all the regime’s attempts to corrupt or steal them.

Understand–this column–and the author’s stance in general–in no way signals a softening of outrage, resistance or defiance. It is simply a recognition of that balance–between despair, which we cannot afford and which does no one any good–and Emily’s ‘thing with feathers.’ I like feathers. They are delicate but uplifting, and even powerful. I like birds–masters of the air and makers of music. I like hope. I like the best traditions and ideals of my country, with all its historical flaws and they are many.

And I don’t like despair. Not even that fond of anger. And I want to leave a little room for that balance, that place where the feathers of hope can exist. Where some of the anger can be released. The place where we live together.

(This is my newest Substack post. I hope you will follow/subscribe to me there at Notes From The Campfire@douglaswoodauthor. Paid subscriptions are always welcome!) https://substack.com/@douglaswoodauthor)