The Interminable Wait

So . . . it seems four years didn't really change anyone's mind.

That's my first reaction to election night.

It's midday the day after and we're still waiting for full results, including a few swing legislative seats and, most significantly, president. Due partially to normal counting delays but mostly due to the huge number of advance and mail-in votes. We might not know who won the election for another day or two. And everyone is in agony over the wait.

So this will be short, with only a few immediate thoughts.

A few things are different this election. The advance voting, for one. Huge records set there. In my area it was something like 80%. And the total number of votes is going to set records.

But the records are only going to surpass the old ones by a bit. And aside from those few differences, the overall picture looks remarkably similar to four years ago. The balance is barely tipping the other way in a few swing states, maybe enough to be decisive to the result, but mostly everything is the same.

Which is disheartening. Four years of what I and those like me see as cruelty, egotism, and xenophobia occupying the White House--both in his person and in his policies--and almost no one was convinced to change their mind about him. Just as many people like him now as they did when he was but a candidate. Nothing about his harsh reality tipped them the other way.

I'm not sure if that means we are more extreme than we realize, they are as extreme as we think, or the gap between us is so extreme crossing over will take something even more outrageous than this person.

But that will be a ponder for later, after more time has passed for reflection. It does have me thinking, but it's not yet a full thought.

For now, the immediate feeling is disappointment.

Balanced by the pragmatic hope that the outcome will still turn out right.

My spirits are lifted by the fact that my area went the other way. We went for him last election but pretty strongly against him this time. Pundit Nate Silver even called us out for it on social media. So at least I feel less alien in my immediate environment.

My kids during our twilight walk last night. Above further is them spinning in a chair at the playground.

I also captured this before it got so dark, hoping it might portray the idea of things turning around from where they were last time we voted.

There have been many memes on my feed capturing some of the various emotions. I think this is my favorite so far.

Someone on my feed also shared this. I'm not familiar with the author, but will have to look into him.

Thank You

By Ross Gay

If you find yourself half naked

and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,

again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says

you are the air of the now and gone, that says

all you love will turn to dust,

and will meet you there, do not

raise your fist. Do not raise

your small voice against it. And do not

take cover. Instead, curl your toes

into the grass, watch the cloud

ascending from your lips. Walk

through the garden's dormant splendor.

Say only, thank you.

Thank you.

I'm moved.

Vaguely related at best, but I had a small moment of joy seeing my chiropractor's office putting out Thanksgiving decorations when I pulled into their parking lot this morning. So many people move straight from Halloween to Christmas, and overlook what should be a season of celebration that is equally significant, if not more.

(Though not because of pilgrims and turkeys and the rest, but because of the spirit of gratitude.)

I also find strange comfort in the perspective provided by the story that follows. It is a new picture book by Tomi Ungerer. I only know a bit about him, that he just died and his childhood was spent in France during World War II. That experience very clearly influenced this book, combined with extrapolated fears about future climate change. It is dreamlike and haunting and dark and disturbing yet strangely hopeful and encouraging. I read it to my five-year-old worried it might make him anxious, but he was not bothered by it. Here is the text, sans illustrations.

Nonstop

Birds, butterflies, and rats were gone.

Grass and leaves had withered.

Flowers had turned to memories.

Streets and buildings were deserted.

Everyone had gone to the moon.

Left behind,

Vasco roamed through barren solitudes,

following his shadow.

All at once,

it urged him to SCRAM around the corner.

JUST IN TIME!

Vasco rambled on,

humming and whistling.

His shadow directed him across the street.

JUST IN TIME!

Buildings toppled down,

like empty crates.

The shadow pointed to a wall . . . 

On the other side

crouched a creature called Nothing.

"Could you do something for me?" he asked.

"I have a letter here for my wife.

She has vanished."

"But there's no address!" said Vasco.

"It will find its way," murmured Nothing.

Vasco took the letter and left.

A tsunami turned the streets into rapids

of gushing, rushing water.

Vasco was deep in rising trouble--

he could neither swim nor float.

His trusted shadow

led him to a ladder.

JUST IN TIME!

Vasco climbed the ladder

onto the deck of a ship.

The vessel was soon afloat,

steerless and adrift,

tossed about by angry surf.

After many long days, and longer nights,

it crashed upon shredding reefs.

With no lifeboat on board,

Vasco jumped into a barrel.

Vasco washed up on a beach,

and took shelter in a deserted hospital.

Through the wards,

the shadow led Vasco to two lonesome creatures.

Vasco handed over the letter from Nothing.

The creature read it with tears in her eyes.

"Please! Take my little Poco with you!" she implored.

Vasco clutched Poco to his heart.

At last he had someone to care for.

Just in time.

Overnight, the temperature dropped.

The ocean froze.

Vasco and Poco left the island,

tailing the shadow from floe to floe.

A heatwave followed close behind,

melting the ice at their heels.

When they reached solid ground,

on scorched soles,

Vasco followed his sizzling shadow

to the shade of branchless trees.

Tremors shook the ground.

The trunks began to rattle and tumble down.

The din was deafening . . . 

Pushing Poco ahead of him,

Vasco crawled through pipes and valves.

They emerged in the middle of an oil refinery.

Gas tanks were exploding,

disintegration seemed imminent.

Keeping doubt and fear at bay,

by focusing on Poco's sweet little face,

Vasco swerved between pits of gargling magma.

The bridge led to a maze,

but the shadow knew its way,

and guided the pair to the exit.

JUST IN TIME!

The buildings began melting

into globs of lilac gelatin.

Polluted by humanity,

the moon shone mottled black.

Down the road

the shadow hailed a taxi.

JUST IN TIME!

Driverless, the taxi took them to the middle of a city.

A pack of crushing Tiger tanks approached,

attracted by the boulevard's plastic trees--

their favorite food.

Hastened by the shadow,

Vasco and Poco took shelter in a metro station.

JUST IN TIME!

A train rolled in,

and came to a jagged halt.

Vasco and Poco embarked,

and the train left on time.

The train rambled for hours

in total darkness.

Vasco sang Poco lullabies

until both fell asleep.

They reached the end of the line,

and disembarked.

The train reversed

back where it came from.

The shadow aimed for the desert.

It was getting darker and the shadow dimmer.

Just in time,

Vasco looked up and saw in the distance

a phantasmagorical sight.

In the middle of the desert appeared

a gigantic cake covered in icing.

Steep narrow steps

led to an entrance

between two maraschino cherries.

Inside were ample supplies of everything.

Alas!

In the softened light,

the shadow dissolved.

Having achieved its mission,

it vanished in silent modesty.

THE END . . . 

AFTERWORD

Sometimes, without his shadow,

Vasco felt sad and forlorn.

He often stepped outside,

into daylight,

to see his old friend again,

waiting for him,

like a faithful dog on the landing.

Poco remained small.

He learned to read,

turned into a scholar,

and a gifted, vegetarian pianist.

Vasco and Poco

were never bored.

To my knowledge, there are still aging there,

sheltered in peace.

At first I was startled by the book's strangeness. Now I appreciate it more each time I read it and find it oddly moving and heartening. It makes me grateful for all that I have.