An insightful post by Singing Gecko reminded me that I recently watched—and highly recommend—Woman of the Hour on Netflix. It stars Anna Kendrick, who also directed it. Quite a feat. She is extremely talented.
I think men especially should watch it.
We all know that the vast majority of men are not serial killers…or rapists…or even misogynists (despite the election results), but they’ve really never walked in our shoes. The “trapped” feeling when alone in an unlit area with a large man lurking is hard to describe in words. The mixture of fear, self-doubt (am I overreacting?) and calculation (what if I run to the stairs? will someone hear me if I scream?) is extremely well-portrayed in Woman of the Hour.
Woman of the Hour is a dramatic, bizarre and entertaining true story that helps explain why so many women recently said they’d choose the bear.
Even better, one of the major settings of the film is The Dating Game—a classic TV game show that elder GenXers like me will remember from childhood, especially if your parents let you watch tons of TV like mine did.
Tony Hale, Anna Kendrick and Daniel Zovatto in one of The Dating Game scenes in “Woman of the Hour.”
I am devastated, but I’m going to try to get over it quicker than in 2016. My conscience is clear. I didn’t sit on the sidelines. I did what I could to try to defeat Trump—marching, calling, writing, donating, posting, rallying, protesting, singing, voting.
For years…years…we did all that stuff.
But Trump won a second term anyway – fair and square. American voters chose a senile pervert and felon over a perfectly good female candidate (again).
It’s time to circle the wagons and focus mainly on my own family. I plan to devote my time and resources primarily to them. I have so many cute pictures of my granddaughter in my phone. If I get down, I’ll just look at them. I am too old to be angry about Trump for another four years. By the time my granddaughter gets to kindergarten, he’ll be out of office. In fact, I’m going to try not to use his name in my blog anymore.
Maybe I’ll get involved again if they try for a National Abortion Ban. Otherwise, I’m just going to huddle up here with my loved ones in Massachusetts, where we will (hopefully) be relatively safe.
OK, I’ve deactivated my Facebook as a first step in trying not to care as much about the election. I’ve never done that before, but apparently it can be reactivated easily. I was just seeing way too many upsetting posts, particularly from feminist groups documenting the horrors that women in the Trump Abortion Ban States are enduring.
Also, I’m done reading The Washington Post. My husband reads it daily, so we won’t cancel it, but honestly, fuck Jeff Bezos. I’m so tired of these asshole white male billionaires and their outsized influence. And while I’m at it, fuck Joe Rogan too. Did you know that little shit is only 5’7”? I am taller than Joe Rogan. And of course, it goes without saying…FUCK ELON MUSK.
Aaaah, now that that’s off my chest…
Back to my efforts to not care about anything other than my own inner circle.
I have some fun things to look forward to:
-Luncheon today: I’m attending a ladies lunch this afternoon. (Actually, I think there’ll be one man there, but he’s cool.) The guests are all church friends of mine so there is absolutely no chance that any of them are Trumpers.
-Babysitting next weekend: My husband and I are going to babysit our adorable, perfect infant granddaughter for a few hours next weekend! I cannot wait to see that little angel again. I can already tell that having grandchildren is going to the absolute best part of being 60+.
-Book group meeting next week: I get to see one of my favorite groups of women. I am so fortunate to have this small group of book-loving friends with whom I can be completely open and always feel supported. (We are reading Solito by Javier Zamora this month and I need to finish it this weekend.)
Also, I had a realization that if Trump wins the election, I’m probably going to seek out a paid position (perhaps a part-time one). I’m going to need something else to focus on, other than the news and volunteering for lost causes. And I think I can still make some decent money in my field, which would mean more resources for the people I love.
I was talking with a couple in their early 70s who have three adult children. One of them is extremely difficult and now finds herself amidst a divorce with no real skills, no money, and no job. This is despite the fact that she was raised with supportive parents and a great deal of privilege. Her parents (my friends) are now supporting her financially…as parents tend to do (if they are able).
My warning to them was this. Think of your relationship with your other children. It’s alienating to watch your parents continue to bail out an irresponsible person. (It’s even worse to get dragged into a sibling’s problems against your will.) Parents of adult fuck-ups need to consider what they may have done to create this needy person and stop doing it. Granted there are very real problems for which adults need assistance (i.e. addiction, illness), but at some point you just have to be fair.
If one of your children used your hard-earned money to go to college (and graduate on time), got a job, raised a family, pays her bills, pays her taxes, invites you to her home for countless holiday meals, etc. And the other one is constantly in crisis mode, with no responsibilities other than herself. Beware of your actions. The responsible ones are watching.
Duck fat biscuits with lemon mint butter and cranberry jam at Greenleaf—a delicious Black-owned restaurant in Milford, NH.
I think a lot of people in the Northeast (including me!) checked off “See the Northern Lights” from their buckets lists last night. This was especially rewarding for those of us who missed seeing them in May. Who knew our once-in-a-lifetime chance would come twice in one year?
The Northern Lights from my very own neighborhood last night around 7:15pm. I was on my way to choir practice and happened to look up.
This feels like a lot of things.
Remembrance
The lights and colors in the sky last night reminded me of my close friend from college, Carla, who died in 2022. She had brain cancer. She really wanted to see the Northern Lights before she died, but was too sick to travel, so her friends and family found a way to project them onto the ceiling in her bedroom in Santa Fe. It was beautiful.
A Sign
I know I’m not alone in feeling a lot of anxiety about the state of the country and the way it feels like we’re never going to go back to “normal” — no matter who wins the election. I’ve never in my life been afraid of a US election, but I’m afraid of this one.
Similarly, I never once saw the Northern Lights as a kid growing up in Massachusetts, but this year, many New Englanders saw them twice! A little girl standing near me last night said, “this is God.” Maybe so. Or maybe it’s a sign of transition to a new era—an era where completely new things happen.
Unknown new things are scary and I have a strong urge to “circle the wagons” and try to protect the ones I love. (I think to myself, “please stay in Massachusetts where you’ll maybe be a bit safer from gun violence, flooding, dangerous reproductive care, crappy public schools, etc.)
But I know that’s not really possible.
My new granddaughter will hopefully live into the next century. She will live out most of her life in this new era, whatever it may be. I want her to feel free, adventurous, and safe to explore the world beyond her home state.
Living in the transitional time
An activist friend of mine left for New Zealand yesterday. She’s staying until the end of the month. She said she just needed to get out of the country for these last few weeks before the election. I can relate. In some ways, it’s all just too much.
Maybe seeing the aurora borealis is the reminder some of us needed to center ourselves and live in the moment. Humans have been around a long time and have accomplished many great things and many terrible things. Even though it sometimes feels like end times are upon us, there’s a decent chance that something great is just around the corner too.
It’s now been a whole year since the Hamas-led terrorist attacks on Israel in which 1,200 men, women and thirty-six children were horrifically killed and 250 abducted. Since then, over 40,000 Palestinian civilians have been killed and countless thousands have been injured and displaced, including mothers, children and infants.
Mothers, children, and infants, like my precious granddaughter…
My minister shared this poem on Sunday and it really struck a chord with our Unitarian Universalist congregation.
“If God Would Go On a Sick Leave: A Poem of Peace”
by Rabbi Zoë Klein
Nowhere is there more prayer. The Nuns at the Holy Sepulchre. The faithful at Al Aqsa Mosque. The worshippers at the Wall. The call to prayer at dawn and dusk Warbling from the citadels. The church bells, The Persian trills, The passion spilled over texts From every major/minor religious sect. Nowhere is there more prayer than Jerusalem, Thanks be to God, Hamdilala, Baruch Hashem. And yet, I’m starting to think that it’s You and not them, God, what’s the point of prayer? If there’s nowhere where There’s more prayer, And terror reigns Then, Who’s to blame? If suddenly, without a whisper goodbye, Jesus, Allah, Adonai, The three men they admire most All took the last train for the coast, And the Moslems got up from their knees And the Christians put down their rosaries And the Jews stayed their hands from kissing Their mezuzahs, And everyone looked up, And realized something’s missing… God is missing. Stop the praying! No One’s there, They’d arrange a party to search everywhere. They’d look for God But there’d be no Presence In Holy Books or stars and crescents Or steeples and crosses. People’d be at a loss, Is He ever coming back? They’d be so distraught, Their searching for naught, There’d be nothing on high So they’d turn to on low, There’d be nothing above So they’d turn to below, And they’d finally see there, In the face of the other, A semblance of sister, The eyes of a brother, They’d turn and they’d lean Upon one another. You see, every group can’t believe that they’re the ones chosen, Every group can’t believe that the Holy Land’s owed them, Sometimes faith in You, God, Builds insurmountable walls, And everyone falls. Everyone falls. How wise are the secularists for whom the dead aren’t martyred But, quite plainly, murdered… This might sound like an absurd, ungodly thing to say, A truly heretical supplication to pray, (I say this only out of the deepest respect) But if for a few days, God, You’d just give it a rest, If You’d take a sick leave and just go away And let Israel work this out without You in the way, God, for that kind of peace, You’re a small price to pay.
There’s no feeling like holding your first grandchild for the first time. It’s an experience of pure love. It’s a bit different than the new parent feeling of baby love, which is such a huge life-altering event. (Your life is ever after divided into two parts—before and after.)
Becoming a grandparent is just a…gift. A gift from the universe. I’m crying as I write this. I don’t love the word “blessed” because of its association with traditional Christianity, but…I mean…heck… it sure does apply here.
I’ve been searching for quotes about becoming a grandparent that resonate. I kind of like this one:
“Grandchildren are the reward for those who have labored as parents.”
But I don’t love the word “reward” in it. Children are not rewards.
Becoming a grandparent is just awesome. That’s all I can say. I know I’m very lucky too. For whatever reasons, the birthrate is way down in the US. A significant number of millennials are choosing not to have children. I’m just so fortunate that my wonderful daughter and her partner have chosen to take the parenthood plunge.
And some practical advice for new grandmothers (based on my one week of experience):
Don’t be annoying.
Be helpful.
Let the parents figure out how to feed and care for their brand new baby. Do your best to take care of the parents—with meals, cleaning, recycling boxes, and whatever else they obviously need. Some ideas have changed since we had kids, especially around bottle vs breast “nipple confusion.” Don’t assert yourself too hard with your old ideas. And don’t say any of those annoying things that all mothers have up their sleeve! Tell the parents how awesome they’re doing at life’s hardest job.
One thing you will always be 100% in agreement on is that their baby (“our” baby 😉) is the cutest baby.
I’ve mentioned before how much I enjoyed the Leanne Morgan comedy special “I’m Every Woman” on Netflix. This bit about becoming a grandma is one of my favorite parts 😂🤣😂
To my readers: my granddaughter has arrived safe and sound – thank the universe! She is perfect in every way and so is her name, which I love, but won’t be sharing publicly at this time.
As a mother, I can tell you it’s pretty darn stressful to have your own precious daughter go through labor and delivery. I wrote this haiku during the first night of her labor, which went on for two whole nights. I barely slept a wink!
Back in the 70s, charm bracelets were a common gift for girls. Typically girls got the bracelet with one or two “charms” as a first gift and then additional charms for birthdays and Christmases ever after.
Charms were little silver representations of some hobby or activity that the girl liked to do.
I loved my charm bracelet. I have kept it in a box in my closet for decades now. It lives with a bunch of other sentimental jewelry that I no longer wear, but cannot part with.
I recently bought some of those tiny silver polishing cloths to shine up some old jewelry and decided to clean my charm bracelet.
As we very eagerly await the birth of my granddaughter sometime within the next two weeks, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to show it to her and tell her about the meaning of all the charms.
There are 17 charms on my bracelet. Most represent things that were important to me as a child and teenager.
A Camp Fire Girls 5-years charm (I had forgotten how important the CFG were to me)
A set of silver bells (not sure why I had those, but I’m assuming they were Christmas-related)
A Camp Fire Girls 6-years charm
The B-1 Bomber (Unusual, yes, but my Dad was an engineer and a pilot and his company made some navigational components for the B-1. He was always going to California on business and he must have brought this charm back from one of his trips.)
A tall ship, probably the USS Constitution. The bicentennial in 1976 was a very big deal in Massachusetts. The tall ships visit to Boston was a part of it.
A baton (I loved twirling and being a majorette in high school)
A tennis racket and ball (I had forgotten, but I was quite serious about tennis for several years. I made it to the club finals in singles one summer. I played on the high school team for a year or two.)
A starfish – I loved the beach. (I ill-advisedly took a starfish home with me one time and that thing reeked like hell for months. It was probably still alive and I didn’t realize it. Poor starfish.)
Mickey Mouse – I was one of those very lucky kids in the 70s whose parents took them to Disneyland.
The Eiffel Tower (I hadn’t been to Paris back then, but I must’ve liked the idea. I sure did love it later on in life.)
A saguaro 🌵 cactus that says Tucson. I had an aunt and six cousins that lived out West. My grandmother would periodically move out there to help them.
The last one is a bit of a mystery. Maybe it’s supposed to be a bicycle. I loved riding my bike. But it looks a bit more like a moped. I remember seeing mopeds a lot on our visits to Nantucket and Block Island, but people were constantly getting seriously injured on them. I don’t think my parents ever let us ride them, so let’s just go with bicycle for that one.
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