4 November 2020— the United States’ presidential election was yesterday. Voting by mail was huge thanks to Covid-19, and early voting was as popular as a summer action flick, and yet, no winner has been called. I remember when High Anxiety was just a movie by Mel Brooks.
My guess is a lot of people would like to go back to the time of Brooks’ satirical comedy, if for no other reason than there’s not a lot of laughing going on these days. Think 2020 and the traumas and pain you associate with it will have you screaming, “Calgon, take me away.”
I’m a shower person, so bathing in Calgon is not my thing; and although I love to bake, the need to whip up batches of muffins and cookies for a carb-fest did not overtake me this year, nor did the need to garden. My pandemic escape came in written form— thank you revision one and revision two, still underway.
Does writing make me anxiety-free? No. I’m just as emotionally traumatized as everyone else— other than Black people. I wish I could fix that. Wish I could fix the whole damn world, get everyone to live in harmony. But that’s not my purpose this time around. And so, I write, meditate, take Abigail for long walks, read stories via Skype to my granddaughter, do laundry, then don my mask and go make groceries.
You’re right. I could become more socially active. It’s a choice. And the need for me to do so is growing. This year I wrote to my Senator about injustice and did my part to encourage neighbors and friends to register for the vote and vote. It’s more than I’ve ever done, and the doing of those little things has created an opening for me to add to my activist activities as 2020 turns to 2021. But I’m not, nor have I ever been Gloria Steinem, Ruth Bader Ginsburg or Michelle Obama. Like I said— maybe next time around.
2020’s Purpose— Are you laughing your ass off yet? Feel free. Laughter is the best medicine according to Reader’s Digest. But then once you’ve reattached your ass come back because this is what I believe, and this is serious— 2020 is a blessing in disguise.
Think about. Our country was already an emotional hotbed of hate thanks to the Bozo in the White House. Then the pandemic came calling, killings took place and our boiling pot turned to scalding, as all the injustices within our communities and problems with our political system were exposed in such a way that they could no longer be ignored. Our country has been thrust into awareness, and this new awareness has made us mad as hell and we’re not going to take it anymore.
It’s not going to be easy. Even if we’re fortunate enough to throw the Bozo out of the White House, change isn’t going to happen overnight. But the numbers of people who came out this year to protest and to vote show me that we are ready to go the distance, ready to do whatever it takes to make the changes that must be made for our country to transform into a true land of the free and home of the brave, where everyone will be judged not by their skin but by the content of their character.
The power of love is inside each one of us. I’m willing to trust in that, are you? Good. Now, I can get back to the page.