The view from here

January 20 will never be the same, unless we don't let it

Photo by Luca Baggio on Unsplash

A few weeks ago, the mother of a childhood friend (and my friend too) sent an email sharing her plans for January 20. Rather than watching the inauguration, she wrote, she’ll spend the day with kindred spirits, in service, honoring the legacy of Dr. King, “making salads for a local food bank, packing warm clothes for lower income families, wrapping toilet articles for domestic abuse survivors and doing a variety of other community projects.”

“It’s a reminder that not only are good people all around us,” she wrote, “but there are needs to be met—opportunities to move beyond our immediate concerns and find our own sense of purpose, whatever it may be.”

There are good people all around us.

I’m thinking of Zoe, who turns twelve today. Last fall, she sent a hand-written letter to the Felon in Chief (FIC, going forward), asking him point blank:

What is the real reason you wish to stop abortion? Is it because you wish to stop women’s right [sic] to their own body?

Born in this country, Zoe now lives in a place where bodily autonomy is a right. But she wants her sister-friends who live here to be free from reproductive shackles. Who knows, maybe she’ll come back one day and run for office.

While I was stitching these paragraphs, news came in that Cecile Richards, long-running president of Planned Parenthood and tireless champion of abortion rights, has died. She left this plane just hours before the swearing-in, and two days before the 52nd anniversary of Roe v. Wade, now a constitutional ghost. In an Instagram post announcing her passing, the family urges us to remember this pearl of Cecile Richards wisdom: “It’s not hard to imagine future generations one day asking: ‘When there was so much at stake for our country, what did you do?’ The only acceptable answer is: ‘Everything we could.’”

It was dark when the snow finally stopped here yesterday, the air still and the hush of the six-inch white blanket all around us. Out front, where we swept and scraped and shoveled, one of the grandsons from next door, college age, was out in his short pants and hoodie clearing the front steps. Making small talk while we worked, I thought about him, whose first language is not English, and whether his future (and that of his parents) was in jeopardy. The storm before this one earlier in the week, he was out there in the morning, shoveling our walk, too. "

“You always shovel for us,” he said, smiling, when I thanked him. “I can do it this time.”

“Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” is the title of a Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood song and subsequent biopic about show host Fred Rogers, who among many things was known for his “always look for the helpers” line.

I’m thinking about all of this, and again, as I type, the news that FIC, the swearing-in sweat not even dried, declares like an emperor that on his watch, there will be two officially recognized genders, ordering the words ‘nonbinary’ and ‘transgender’ to be struck from all federal forms.

I’m thinking of a thirty-something trans man, close to us, an educator, who has never felt more alive since leaving behind his past, and how he must feel in this very moment to be thought of as persona non grata, and even more urgently, his sense of personal safety while every day he ensures that of his students.

There are so many good people all around us.

I’m thinking of Greg and Bee, who are also blowing out birthday candles today, both artists, good cooks, sharp Cheddar wit, stubborn, brilliant Aquarians who can’t believe we still haven’t achieved world peace, dummies, come on already, we’ve got a burning planet to save.

How to choose from all the golden nuggets in Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech is always the hard part.

So even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.

This is the lead up to his vision for this nation, the sweeping, passionate call for equality, equity, freedom. Words that have inspired generations, words that will never die.

We can feel grim on this day, or we can look for the helpers, or dream a little dream that just might grow into a big one, because baby we need all the dreams and all the dreamers and all the neighbors.

There are so many good people all around us.