Cyclists on the rail trail who don’t yield to pedestrians. They like to “thread the needle” through two pedestrians (or groups of pedestrians) walking in opposite directions, coming within inches of the walkers. Just wait until it’s safe to pass, jerk!
E-bikes on the (very flat) rail trail moving at top speed. Technically e-bikes are considered “non-motorized” vehicles, so they’re allowed, but they can go very fast and seem dangerous. Typically, the people choosing to use all the power their e-bikes have to offer are quite fat and should really be pedaling (in my opinion).
Anyone on the rail trail in MAGA gear. Honestly, just fuck off. This is Massachusetts.
How’s that? Angry enough for a Tuesday? Thanks WordPress. You finally let me answer the Daily Prompt and now I’m mad! 😡
I encountered a lot of naked despair, grief and anger at church today. I belong to a liberal Unitarian Universalist church outside of Boston. Many people were absolutely wrecked over the election results, including the minister.
We have many older members (I guess that includes me now at nearly 60) who have been fighting for all types of causes for decades, from the climate crisis to abortion. My church helped lead the marriage equality movement in Massachusetts. (We were the very first state in the country to legalize gay marriage in 2004–twenty years ago!) During the fight, our then minister refused to perform weddings in our beautiful historic church until same-sex marriage was legal. He really took a stand and it helped move things forward. Shortly after the law was passed, he married two longtime beloved church members—two women—in front of of the entire congregation. It was euphoric.
Anyway, I was doing OK at church, holding up pretty well, until the music director played John Lennon’s Imagine during the offertory. Oh man, hearing that just broke me (and a bunch of other people too). She was playing it beautifully on the grand piano (with no vocalist) but of course everyone in our congregation knows the words and was quietly singing along.
I love the ubiquitous clip of Amy Poehler and Maya Rudolph saying “sweater weather.” It’s dumb, but it makes me laugh every time. I think it’s because Amy Poehler is using an authentic Boston accent. She grew up two towns over from where I did.
It is, in fact, “sweater weather” in Massachusetts. And I’m very pleased to report that I wore a sweater out to lunch yesterday and did not regret it. Maybe my hot flashes are finally subsiding.
I am continuing to write letters and postcards to help get out the vote in swing states, but that will be ending soon. My extreme anger at the Trump movement has risen to the surface again. I’m really fucking pissed at everyone who voted for him in 2016 and/or 2020, including members of my own family (not my husband or my kids). And I truly HATE all of Trump’s Republican enablers in the GOP. My hatred extends to all the Republicans who don’t support him, but have strategically kept their mouths shut during this campaign. For example, my college classmate Jane Swift (former Governor of Massachusetts) has not said one thing in support of Harris. Fuck you Jane. Nobody cares about your daughter’s engagement ring. Post about something that actually matters. Be BRAVE, like Liz Cheney. Speaking of former Massachusetts Governors, where the fuck is Mitt Romney??!? He should be out campaigning for Harris. Bill Weld has been public about supporting Harris, but unfortunately nobody gives a shit about Bill Weld anymore.
19 more days.
I think I should stop watching the news and just watch videos of cats in sweaters for the next three weeks.
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.
Now, the first of December was covered with snow So was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston Though the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frostin’ With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go
That’s right. The Red Lion Inn is three years older than the United States. It was built the same year colonists were starting to get super annoyed with King George and dumped a bunch of tea in Boston Harbor.*
The Red Lion Inn in Stockbridge, Massachusetts is one of the oldest hotels in the USA. It started as a tavern in 1773.
We had dinner on the famous front porch of The Red Lion Inn last night and met some very interesting people, including two non-binary GenZ artists and a woman our age who is launching a solar farm business.
Interior view of the Red Lion tavern
Our room at The Red Lion Inn had to be locked and unlocked with an actual key 🔑
The Lost Lamb is a wonderful French patisserie in tiny, quaint downtown Stockbridge. I got both a chocolate croissant and a plain croissant with my café au lait.A pretty stained glass window in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church (est. 1834), which is directly across the street from Red Lion.
After a swim in the outdoor pool at Red Lion, we stopped for a delicious lunch at the Starving Artist Café in nearby Lee. We chatted with a woman from nearby Pittsfield, where I was born and spent the first three years of my life. Back then, everyone in Pittsfield (including my dad) worked for General Electric.
I don’t know why I hadn’t been back to this area in decades, but I will not wait so long to return. After lunch, we put on some James Taylor in the car and hopped on the turnpike back to Boston. The traffic gods were with me and I got home before 4pm.
A mural in downtown Lee
*The Boston Tea Party was a political protest by American colonists against British taxation policies. It occurred on December 16, 1773, in Boston, Massachusetts. Colonists, frustrated by the Tea Act—which allowed the British East India Company to sell tea directly to the colonies, effectively lowering the cost but undercutting colonial merchants—disguised themselves as Mohawk Indians and boarded British ships. They proceeded to dump 342 chests of tea into Boston Harbor. This act of defiance became a pivotal event leading up to the American Revolution.
I guess the thing I can’t live without is my house. I mean, I could, but it would be tough.
People, of course, matter more than anything else and are irreplaceable.
I feel badly that home ownership seems to be out of reach for so many people—especially in Massachusetts. I love my state, but the lack of affordable housing is a major problem.
Our first house looked a bit “overgrown” when we drove by a few years ago.
My husband and I had very lucky timing. We bought our first house in 1995 when our daughter was 6 months old for 155K. It was an antique house with lead paint, no garage, a leaky fieldstone basement, a horrible old kitchen over a crawl space and 1.5 bathrooms. We sold it 9 years later, in 2004, for 385K with some moderate updates (including the kitchen). It went up 148.5% in 9 years!
It was just plain luck. If we’d waited 5 years, it would’ve been mid-housing crisis and things would not have worked out so well.
The question of legacy always reminds me of the song “Everything Possible” by Fred Small. I knew Fred when he was my minister in the early 2000s. I heard him perform this lullaby on several occasions and each time it made me cry.
It was especially meaningful during the battle for marriage equality in Massachusetts. We were the very first state to legalize same-sex marriage in 2004 (20 years ago), but it was a protracted legal and legislative fight. Though it had been written in 1983, “Everything Possible” struck a chord during that time. In our church, Fred took a stand and stopped performing all marriages, until marriage was legal for same-sex couples too. The song became a highly emotional signature anthem for the Boston Gay Men’s Chorus.
Recently, Fred tweaked the lyrics to be more inclusive of non-binary people and created a children’s book to accompany the song and further spread the message of love and acceptance.
The chorus is the most beautiful part.
You can be anybody you want to be, You can love whomever you will You can travel any country where your heart leads And know that I will love you still You can live by yourself, you can gather friends around, You can choose one special one And the only measure of your words and your deeds Will be the love you leave behind when you’re done.
Here’s a beautiful live performance of the song by the Boston Gay Men’s Chorus.
And here’s Fred himself singing the new version of “Everything Possible.”
I’ll definitely be buying this book for my granddaughter, when she’s old enough.
I’d like to be remembered for the love I leave behind when I’m done.
Rev. Fred Small having a chat with a group of children in my church around 2004—the year when marriage equality became law in Massachusetts
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