For the People

2024-08-25T14:56:40-07:00Categories: featured posts, featured posts, politics, women's rights|Tags: , , , , , |

I bought an American flag yesterday. It cost $1.29 plus tax. It is the first American flag I have ever purchased. It was my husband’s idea, since I was out and about and near the kind of hardware store where they might sell flags. I think he thought I’d come home with a larger one, but the next size up was three feet by five feet, and I wasn’t quite ready for one that big, this being my first flag ever. But give me a few days. Because that’s how life is right now: I am feeling more patriotic by the hour. And I know I'm not alone. For millions of Americans, last week was just one big patriotic crescendo. It’s as if all the language of patriotism—especially that one word, freedom—and all the symbolism—especially the flag—and all the music, especially the national anthem—have been released from some kind of nefarious captivity and returned to us. To the people.  It’s as if, on Night One of the Democratic National Convention, Hillary Clinton’s rhetorical transformation of the glass ceiling into a filigree of cracks through which we can see the sunlight of freedom ahead set the scene for the week, and allowed the light to just keep pouring in, via Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Shawn Fain, Steve Kerry, the dazzling Obamas, Oprah, Tim Walz, Doug Emhoff, and dozens and dozens of others. And the signs. And the balloons. And the roll call. And the great-nieces, teaching the world to say “Comma-La.”   And Kamala herself. She was radiant. She was [...]

365 Days

2021-01-18T18:12:50-08:00Categories: creative aging, featured posts, feminism, human rights, midlife, politics, Seattle, travel, Uncategorized, urban life, women's rights|Tags: , , , , , , |

365 days ago, I celebrated my 63rd birthday in California with close friends. We marched in the 2020 Oakland women’s march, shouting with and talking to many total strangers, and admiring everyone’s signs. We dined out at a brewpub for lunch and an Italian restaurant for dinner. There was a stop for oysters somewhere in there too. In case we might still be hungry, my friends had hidden a selection of fancy birthday desserts in the back of the fridge. Wow. Though I had just returned from a long trip to Mexico, I thought nothing of hopping a flight from Seattle to Oakland for that weekend. My husband had been sick with a strange and  terrible flu through the last several days of the trip. There were a few days he couldn’t get out of bed. Not like him, at all. There were other days he couldn’t stop coughing. He was finally on the mend, but we had both been shocked by how hard this illness hit him. I know what you’re thinking. And… we’ll never know, though he recently donated blood and the Covid-19 antibody test came back negative. But back to my 2020 birthday weekend. I’d really like to dwell on it some more. There was a long afternoon at the SF MoMA. There was another afternoon of walking all over the UC Berkeley Campus. There was talk, so much talk: my friends and I worried together about whether Trump could be defeated, and if so, which candidate had the best chance. Harris? Warren? [...]

Pandemic Mountain

2020-08-30T16:45:22-07:00Categories: featured posts, hiking, politics, Uncategorized|Tags: , , , , |

In the middle of this pandemic summer, in a tent on a ridge just a stone’s throw from Mt. Baker, my husband and I woke in the wee hours to the sound of two young voices, chatting away, getting closer and louder every second. We could see their headlamps bobbing like a pair of fireflies as they hiked towards us, up the steep trail known as the Railroad Grade route to the Mt. Baker climbers’ basecamp. Our tent was just a few feet off the trail. We’d left the rainfly off: on this silky July night, we needed nothing between us and the starry sky but the tent’s inner mosquito-net shell. We hadn’t seen anyone else for hours. But here they came at 1:40 a.m., these two young men, hiking with headlamps, ready to climb Mt. Baker. They must’ve left the trailhead around midnight. They were nearly on top of us when they finally saw our tent and lowered their voices a little. We pretended to be asleep. They walked on by. We watched their lights bob out of sight. It took us both a while to get back to sleep. But there had been something so happy and cozy about their camaraderie, in the wee hours, that I felt lucky to have heard it. I don’t remember a word they said, only that they were animated and buoyant, as if their packs full of climbing gear weighed nothing. As if they were waterskiing uphill. It was like hearing voices from the past: from that innocent [...]

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