Rage

I scream into a dark void.

Children being taken from their parents. Refugees fleeing violence and terror find their families torn apart as they seek safety in what was once a country of promise. No records are kept so the reunification of these families, even in their home countries, may never be possible.

I scream into a darkening void.

A man, put into power by a minority of the people, insulting our allies while cavorting with oppressive dictators.

I scream into a void.

I find myself glad sometimes that I am in the final third of my life. I consider what it would be like to witness this madness in my youth, that hate and divisiveness may be all my future holds.

I scream into the dark void.

A man, put into power by a minority of the people, dividing us. Pitting citizen against citizen, us against our allies, screaming and lying to his minions. Demanding they be allowed weapons of war. Demanding that laws be created to reflect their beliefs, stifling the beliefs and trampling the rights and freedoms of others.

I scream into an increasingly dark void.

I do not cry. Mine is not the sadness of tears. It is the sadness of fear and dread. The fear and dread of increasing hate, of the erosion of liberties. Fear of desecration of the planet we share. Fear of growing economic disparity, of creating a permanent servant class scratching through the cast off remains of the wealthy to survive. Fear and dread of violence in schools, churches, concerts and movie theaters. Fear that one day I will no longer recognize the country in which I was born and raised, that the damage to it may be too great to ever be repaired.

I scream into a dark void.

Spring Forward Chicago Style

It was early in the afternoon, my errands were out of the way and the day was warm and bright with sunshine. I headed out on my bike for my first ride of the year. It was early May but it felt like mid June. The people I passed on the lakefront trail were all smiles and pale white skin, I sometimes jokingly refer to it as winter white. A cute young man with jug ears pedaled by in the opposite direction singing to himself in Spanish. April had been abnormally cold. It seemed to drag on forever. It appeared as if everyone out that day felt they deserved this small window of summer like warmth and sun, this harbinger of the season to come. 

The strong winds from the south, the reason for the unseasonable temperatures, challenged me as I set out. City crews had been hard at work since my last ride. The playgrounds that dot the lakefront had been outfitted with gleaming new swings, slides and monkeybars. The rusted metal and peeling paint of the exercise pad that sits alongside the bike trail had been similarly transformed. 3 new workout stations inhabited the space where derelict ones had stood. 

Time constraints, the strong wind and concern about sun on my pale flesh so early in the year kept me from going the full distance I usually ride. As I turned my bike north the wind was at my back and pedaling at times seemed superfluous. 

That night we watched from our west facing kitchen window as thunderstorms approached. Occasionally hard, fierce and furious the rain soaked the dry ground. The following morning a dense, cool fog had settled along the lakefront. Once it burned off it looked as if spring had arrived, all at once, overnight. Flowering trees had bloomed, on others, the sun and rain coaxed leaves to unfurl from small green buds. Grass and shrubs had gone from dry and brown to that rich special verdant shade only seen for a few short weeks each year. Scores of daffodils and jonquils joined others of their kind already in bloom. Brightly colored tulips burst from their tightly closed green shells. Thick leaves, low to the ground, seemed suddenly sturdier, holding the promise of more flowers to come. 

It was spring in Chicago. After 30 plus years I knew that anything could happen. But, that day, I reveled in the moment, enjoying the feeling of warm wind in my face and the bright sun on my shoulders.

 

The State of the Union - MAGA

I fear for my country's future. I grew up connecting the passage of time with progress. Yet the slogan Make America Great Again suggest that some wish to turn the clock back.

Although species depletion and extinction is still an issue, mainly stemming from poaching and habitat loss these days, we have witnessed the return of the bald eagle and,through captive breeding and reintroduction into the wild, the black footed ferret, a small mammal whose population once numbered only 50. Reintroduction of wolves helped to restore some of the natural beauty, bounty and species diversity of Yellowstone, the park the very definition of a national treasure. The Chicago River, once a toxic, bubbling cauldron, has been restored and is cleaner that at any point in the city's modern history.

Now I watch, in horror, disappointment and disillusionment as pristine wilderness lands are stripped of protection. Our coastal waters are opened up to drilling for an exhaustible fossil fuel that, throughout much of the world, is swiftly becoming obsolete. Clean and renewable energy sources come under economic attack by a shortsighted administration that sees only immediate financial profit.

A seemingly endless stream of divisiveness and hate spews forth. It aims to stoke fears of those that do not conform to a white, so called, Christian, ideal. Hate of immigrants, gays, people of color and Muslims. It creates true fear among those against whom the hate is focused. Yet Jesus preached of brotherhood, peace an helping one another, particularly those less fortunate. These are the Christian values that I, a minister's son, was taught. They are values all humane and loving people should embrace, regardless of their belief or faith.

Corporations, in collusion with the administration, enrich themselves while offering their workers compensation so inadequate that they are forced to apply for public assistance. Even this aid is under attack. Our military takes over half of our government budget while U.S. citizens go hungry, even homeless.

Many talking heads on television speak of the exhausting nature of this administration. It seems a new outrage emerges everyday. Perhaps it is a plan to wear down the public. To tire us to the point where we are no longer shocked, where inhumane and what should be unacceptable actions are accepted as "the way things are".

Presently the slogan Make America Great Again suggests that we step backward. Perhaps, like some other slogans and words once hurtful, we should adopt it as we attempt to stem and repair the damage that is being done.