Pardon Me!

Visions of pardons are dancing in the President's head these days and, of course, showing up on Twitter.  Pardons he has granted so far have been for gross and blatant public corruption, crimes for which the pardoned have pleaded guilty.  With the exception of Fox "News" consumers, I doubt anyone will miss the point of the pardons: He's telling those talking to the Special Prosecutor not to flip and testify against him; if they stay loyal, he'll pardon them.   

Meanwhile, children are still being separated from their parents at the border, treated like the criminals being pardoned and considered for pardons.  Meanwhile, Puerto Rica still struggles to recover from the hurricanes that devastated the island, leaving citizens without water, power, and—worst of all— a far higher death toll than reported by the Trump Administration.  Independent think tanks reporting over 4,000 now?   It looks like our fellow Americans there are likely to get more battering,  in an environment where storms continue to grow more intense.  And at the mercy of an Administration in D.C. that barely acknowledges them.

Meanwhile, I buckle my post-Memorial day white sandals,  putting one foot in front of the other, as if our democracy weren't in jeopardy at all.  On a Friday filled with sunshine, errands, and everyday graces, I struggle to get myself into a higher state of consciousness.  And I pray for Mr. Mueller and his team to work fast enough. 

Memorial Day

Memorial Day 2018, remembering four hometown friends who lost their lives in Vietnam.  Also thinking of those who survived the horrors of war.  Some survivors are navigating life with artificial limbs and other visible wounds.  Some wounds, and scars, are invisible though, and capable of ruining the lives of those who bear them, long after a war is over.  Their combat experiences, and the PTSD they live with, never ends.  Their pain can surface and explode, like an emotional bomb that can affect anyone in its path.  These unexpected blowups are buried in the psyche like land mines.  If you've ever known someone dealing with PTSD,  you know it's a hard thing to describe.  Hard to understand, hard for loved ones to accept. We can only imagine how hard life must be for veterans who survive war.   

Today is the special day to remember, respect, and appreciate those who made the ultimate sacrifice.  Those for whom life on this Earth ended suddenly and too soon.  Today also seems like a good day to pause and remember the war veterans still living among us.  I know, we'll be honoring them in November.  I know. But they're doing their best to cope with the traumas that are with them every day of the year.   

Let's thank them for their service and sacrifices every time we have an opportunity to do that.  No matter the day.  Thank you, veterans.  Thank you, thank you.

Lucy's Back

Someone said Time flies when you're having a good time.  I agree.  Hell, I can tell you it flies even when you're not.

It's been 2.5 years since I've written here at Lucy Left.  A lot of life has happened since that last log-in.  So much, in fact, that's hard to share it all in a linear fashion.  Please indulge me in what's likely to be a long personal-political combo post—intended to catch you up and to remind myself why I'm still weary. I think most Liberal and Progressive Americans are feeling weary along with me, some of us plumb worn out with President Trump and the ethics deficit in his administration.  But let's try not to dip into that today.  We will though. We will.

Everybody knows how the 2016 presidential election turned out.  And I need to ask you this: Would it suit you not to hear ever again how the investigation into foreign interference in that election is all about Liberals or "Hillary voters" being poor losers?  Surely they know better, but that old talking point continues to make the rounds far too often.

I want you to know that in the past year and a half I have put on some weight, thanks to the current Administration and the stress it generates in daily living. (If forewarned, your jaw might not drop as quickly next time you see me.) While some elected officials might walk softly and carry a big stick, the current president carries a big eraser to undo policies implemented by his predecessor.  Mr. Trump is motivated by his hatred of President Obama.  My assessment is that the hatred is radically personal, not in the least about the policies he is undoing. Environmental regulation rollbacks, international relations, good will thrown to the winds,  and breaking the US out of significant agreements (Paris Accords, Iran Nuclear Agreement), recklessly pissing off longtime allies while heaping praise on dictator-authoritarian rulers. I got a little off the mark here: This paragraph was intended to blame Trump, and the anxiety he stirs up, for about half my weight gain.

I consider some of the comfort eating and consumption of high-calorie fruit of the vine to be efforts at grief management.  However foolish, comfort eating and wine intake suit me better than sleeping pills or heavy anti-depressants.  Besides, food and wine taste better.

 The grief surfaced with my mother's death in June, 2017.  But the feelings of emptiness started long before she died—on the day my brother died and Mama slipped and fell in the kitchen, breaking a hip and a shoulder.  Yes, the very same day brother Johnny died.  She was 89 and just out of surgery the day of his funeral and couldn't be there.  So, I've grieved the loss of them both, in addition to missing my father who left this world several years before brother and mother.  After Mama underwent PT at a rehab place, she came home.  Instead of a nursing home. The siblings and I had debated how we could fulfill her strong (and understandable) wish to remain in her own home.  So, after one unfortunate situation, my sister found a woman who would bring on several caregivers to cover days and nights, 24/7 care, with all the challenges, dramas, worrying, energy-draining, etc. that entails.

For three years Mama was mostly, then fully, bedridden; during the first year, she lost her eyesight in a rapid vision decline. Then there was another hip break and hospitalization.  She went through a lot.  Her stoicism was heartbreaking.  And so the long goodbye began.

Mama and I had been close, always, and spent a lot of time together.  We enjoyed each other's company as friends as well as mother-daughter.  Unless one of us was out of the country (which happened very very seldom) we talked daily. Even though her cognitive health was good, especially the first couple of years, the nature of our relationship changed. That was hard.

In the very beginning of our long goodbye, I was living in my version of Paradise on a beautiful lake near the beach in the South Carolina Lowcountry.  After my brother died and Mama was injured and recovering, I was driving back and forth (7 hours round trip) once, sometimes twice, weekly to visit Mama in the Midlands and help make it possible for her to remain at home.  I did one of the "top ten hardest things" of my life, and put my home on the market.  Said goodbye to the moss draped oaks, the cypress trees standing  guard in the lake outside my windows, the egrets and blue herons, the big gator I called "Tank." Will spare you all the hellish details.  Let's fast forward to being thankful (in the end) that it finally sold, after I had moved into a condo in Columbia, 3 hours closer to my mother.  (I'm forever grateful to two friends who offered a loan for buying the condo, so I wouldn't have to wait for the Lowcountry home to sell.)

Not too long before making the decision to move, I was in a deteriorating relationship with a man I cared for, but needed to let go. I'm not sure who let whom go at the end, but endings are always hard for me, no matter how much "better off" I'm likely to be.  So, more stress piled on.
And the clearing out of a home—packing and moving and setting up a new home without the comfort of my beautiful lake that was a mirror for the moon...I will stop talking about that.  And I won't go on about Mama's decline either.  Remaining present to it once was enough.  I have tried to write about it and managed to succeed only once in finishing a poem (ultimately published in The New Guard, Volume V).  If you would like to see it, leave a comment saying so, and I'll share it here.

A couple of months after Mama died, I came to terms with the reality I'd been doing my best to ignore: Condo living was not for me.  In a nutshell, I began looking for a wonderful house I could  afford and finding the right (smaller than envisioned) one after coming to terms with the current market. Had an agent who's also a friend and former neighbor. He helped a lot.  Put my condo on the market and, with my move out, came a slow-leaking pipe (caused by movers not turning off the washer completely) that caused a flood and ruined hardwood floors in 3 rooms.  There was insurance, water mitigation, contractor, replacing flooring to deal with...in the midst of trying to sell it at the same time I was unpacking and giving my all to making a house a home. But the condo sold, so that story had a good ending.

I'm settled in the house now and feeling good about it. It has become home.  After accepting the added expenses, high street traffic, yard care challenges (including a back yard composed of only aggressive weeds and communities of fire ants.  I have just rehabbed the front yard, put the finishing touch out there yesterday:  My "James Smith for Governor" sign!

Lucy's back, y'all.  We have a primary election on June 12 here in SC, and I'm pulling hard for James Smith to win.  We need to replace our current governor, a Trump follower with a record I can't support—especially when it comes to women and the non-wealthy people of our State.

So, check out James Smith's site and learn about his record.  A member of the State House of Representatives and veteran who fought in Afghanistan.  He has a fabulous family, including a talented wife he obviously loves and respects. His record on women's health issues and his policies in general show respect for all people.

Are you registered to vote?  It's current?  If not, hurry so you can vote June 12. I'll be voting for James, of course.  Someone in the opposition column has been misrepresenting his stand on gun safety. You know I wouldn't be supporting anyone who's not for gun reforms.

Meanwhile, I'll be trying to stir up some votes there and across the board for Democrats.  We desperately need them here and across the USA.   How can I help make that happen?  How can you?
If you've read all this, you have an admirable attention span, and I commend and thank you.  Now, tell me what you're thinking about what we can do to get Dems elected?  Leave comments, please!

Take care of yourself and i will do the same.  I won't be gone so long this time! Promise.