Well, the thing about elections in Florida is that they never seem to end. We came very close to winning the Governor, Senator, and Agriculture Commissioner, but on election night it seemed we lost.
However, over the next few days they kept "finding" votes that were not counted. Seriously. So now the Agriculture Commissioner candidate who was declared the loser last Tuesday has more votes than the so-called winner. Both the Governor and Senator races are within one half of one percent difference between candidates.
The result? Probably automatic recounts for all three races. It will be weeks before we know the results or who the true winners are. But at least now if we lose, we'll know the truth. And we'll know the places in Florida that need to be held accountable for incompetence at best, and fraud at worst.
In addition, we now have a cadre of seasoned progressive candidates who will try, try, again. The only thing better than winning outright, is coming back after a loss and winning the second time around. Winning isn't always clear cut; however, win or lose, this progressive energy feels like a huge victory for Florida.
In the meantime, we took back the U.S. House of Representatives! We are powerless no longer. Hang on to your hat.
It is almost the end of blueberry season in Central Florida. There is a U-pick blueberry farm near us I had never been to. I talked myself into taking my grandson.
I picked N up from school and asked if he wanted to pick blueberries. He was surprisingly enthusiastic, so we went. The farm has a bouncy house for the kids next to the concession area where they sell things like blueberry popsicles and blueberry muffins. First he bounced. Afterwards, he chose the muffin and raved in ecstasy the entire time he was eating it. He hates everything, so this was interesting to me. I'm going to have to find a good recipe for blueberry muffins.
Turns out he is a remarkably good farmworker. The concept of picking enough little berries to fill his pail was not daunting; it inspired him. Of course, he also assumed it was a competition and wanted more than anything to pick more than me. This is what blueberry picking is like when one is all hopped up on testosterone. I tried to be grandmotherly and ignore the competition, but it was a formal challenge! In fact, this challenge was shouted out with great bravado, arms raised with fingers pointed to and jabbing at the heavens. You know how I like to win. I picked with abandon.
We ended up rather even, but when weighed I had a few berries more. That bothered the boy, so the next day he insisted we go back. This time he had a quiet plan involving going into rows all his own, not following me as he had before. Nothing was said about winning or losing. However, he picked fast and furiously. I pretended not to notice, and picked leisurely as a Grandma should.
When we had the pails weighed, one weighed more than the other. I told him the heavier one was his and congratulated him. He bellowed in delight. I think you know the truth.
I understand cynicism. Really, I do. I just don't happen to like it. It seems...cowardly.
You know, like when there is a spirited election coming up and the two candidates have radically different approaches to solving public problems. There is always someone who will smirk and say "All politicians stink, that's why I don't bother to vote." When someone says that to me, what I actually hear in my head is "I don't know right from wrong, I don't want to think about the issues, so I am just going to act like nothing matters. I hope you think I'm cool" I don't.
It is easy to be distrustful and negative. Life is simpler if you tune out the noise of the modern world. The hard part is listening to all that noise and trying to make sense of it. The truth is, life is complicated and requires a certain amount of intellectual rigor to figure out right from wrong. Mainstream American culture encourages citizens not to think. The more passive we are, the more compliant we will be. Don't fall for it.
This is why we are thrilled by heroes. They seem to have thought long and hard about right and wrong. They are incorruptible and keep going when the going gets tough. They take a stand. They DO things. They give us hope, and inspire us to be our best selves. Doesn't everyone want to be a hero? If not, why?
Here's a sweet little piece from an Emily Dickinson poem to help us all recharge our batteries:
We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies—
Okay, I needed that. Now I am going to go plant some seeds.
Oh, I don't know. I guess I am just getting old. I used to be a
hell raiser, a loud mouthed dame ready to take on the world. I'm still ready to take on the world, but I have less energy. These days I am trying to cultivate a different
approach.
I have mentioned before that I am
hot-tempered. Anyone who knows me will concur. I have a decent sense
of humor and I try to be affable. However, I also have a very short fuse. Once
sparked, I am off and running. That is the way of it for me. I am not bragging, I'm complaining.
People (in my real life AND on blogs) are often talking about anger right now. It is interesting how connected we are by reality. Truthfully, it is hard not to be angry in April 2017.
Let me explain the way I feel about this current reality in mytho-poetic terms: The world has run amok. Trolls and ogres have found a crack in our shields. They claw their way into this dimension driven by the demons they serve. A battle for sovereignty is being waged... Thanks for indulging me, I hope it was as fun for you as it was for me.
In these times of bad manners, political strife, and acrimony I feel like I am overusing anger. More to the point, I can't help but notice when I lose my temper, I lose the fight.
I'm trying to chill and use my words instead of my temper. Because I like to win.
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| Bad ass baby alligators |
