The eye of the storm

Over the years, I have with only a few exceptions kept politics out of my writing and out of my business. Honestly, I really don’t think I can be quiet or so subtle going forward. There is too much at stake. I am still feeling rattled by our presidential election and the state of our country. It feels to me that we are in the eye of the storm, a huge storm.

Donald J. Trump’s first term of office was the front of the storm. It was uncomfortable, exhausting, and downright alarming. There was never a moment of peace during that term. Joe Biden’s presidency brought renewed optimism to many and Kamala Harris’s campaign brought some measure of hope. I was cautiously hopeful. When the news came that Trump had won the electoral college, I was devastated. Now, the backside of the storm approaches and it is dark and ominous. The entire world is watching to see if our country will survive this storm.

An acquaintance who voted for Trump, asked me if we could just “agree to disagree”? I responded she had voted for an administration that is threatening the safety and happiness of people I love dearly. I can take a deep breath and be civil, but agreeing to disagree? No, that is not possible. You can disagree over the choice of a movie, which restaurant to go to, or which flavor of ice cream to purchase. I will not agree to disagree when it comes to a president elect and his proposed cabinet whose rhetoric and plans are filled with cruelty and suppression. 

I had a conversation with an elderly man at the market about the price of groceries…and so much more.. We were standing next to each other while choosing sandwich bread. He looked at me and said, “Everything is so much more expensive, isn’t it?” I answered him with a “Yes.” He quietly told me he is very worried about proposed tariffs and possible cuts to Social Security and Medicare. He does most of the shopping now for he and his wife, and feels he has stretched their budget as much as he can. For the first time in his life, he is considering a visit to the food bank. I gently touched him on the arm and encouraged him to do that; reassuring him he would be welcomed and treated with respect. He smiled and said he was so much more comfortable with giving rather than receiving. We parted ways, wishing each other well, and I did the rest of my shopping fighting tears.

I’ll end this post with a meme that popped up in my Facebook feed, because it sums up my feelings so well.