lydamorehouse (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lydamorehouse) wrote2016-11-13 08:17 am
lydamorehouse) wrote2016-11-13 08:17 am
Small Steps
I'm still incredibly shaken by this election.
The only upside to my nerves is that I've been walking away from social media to do busy work. With the weather being unseasonably warm (another sign of the impending apocalypse), I've been raking all the leaves. We have one maple tree, the one out front, that has very broad leaves that refuse to fall until mid-Novemeber regardless. Normally, this means the leaves fall on snow. Most years I end up having to rake them in spring and by then the baby-shoots of grass have suffocated.
This year, I got most of them up. I also put to bed gardens that I ignored most of the rainy summer, too.
Though it was colder than usual yesterday, I got anxious again and worked on finishing the front. Our neighbor James said asked me how I was. James is an African-American photographer. He's married to Katherine, a white woman, who a anthropology professor at Hamline. They have an adult daughter, Mali, who is of course mixed race. At first I lied. I said the thing you're supposed to say, "I'm fine." Then, I thought, "No, you know, I'm really not and I should say so." James and Katherine and Mali have as much at stake as Shawn and Mason and me. So, I said, "Actually, the election has made me sick." At first he dismissed it with a, "Don't even start," which I completely respect. A lot of people I know are in the hiding phase. They've left social media for good or are just out of evens (for the moment.)
Later, James came back to chat a little. Even though he's black, he seems to be taking the "wait and see" approach. James is very much a dyed-in-the-wool liberal, whose politics have been shifting center with the rest of the party. Both he and Katherine are very middle class. Or at least they're 'professorial class' with aspirations towards middle. We'd previously had an "anybody but Hillary" conversation. So even though I'm sure he voted against Trump, I'm not sure he voted for Hillary, if you know what I mean. I don't think he's the type to go third party, but even if he did, I wouldn't blame him. I blame the people who didn't show up. I blame the people who blocked voters from voting.
Even so, we both agreed Trump's election was beyond tragic. I told him about my plans to volunteer. He nodded, but his air was one of cynicism. Again, given that he's African-American I can hardly disagree with his experience or tell him to have hope, when I see so little myself.
I waved good-bye and told him to stay safe.
Another neighbor, one I didn't know, came strolling by. We'd shared a few 'hellos' but nothing else. Our conversation stayed mostly to the weather and the never-ending task of yard work. There was something about the guy, though, that made me think maybe he was family. So, again when we said good-bye, I impulsively added, "Hey, stay safe."
He looked a tiny bit shocked (he was white), but said, "You, too!"
I didn't think much more of it, other than to wonder if I was going to just add 'stay safe' to my good-bye rituals from then on out. But I was just about finished with the front (I swear I was out there almost two hours), when here came the same neighbor again. He had another guy in tow, and I instantly thought, "OH! that's going to be his partner!"
Sure enough. My chatty neighbor was Michael and I was introduced to Jon, his partner. They came down, ostensibly to go to the gym (a YMCA is at the end of our block on the other side of University), but really wanted to find out if we were family, too. So I introduced myself and said, "and I live here with my wife Shawn and our son Mason." It was nice. We exchanged business cards and commiserated. We talked about rumors of violence; I told them about the very real violence that happened at the bookstore. We worried about their next door neighbors, an extended Somali family and I found out the guy I've been waving to and saying hello to for years is named Mohammad.
He walks very slowly with a cane and because he pauses a lot to rest, I've always gone out of my way to wave and say hello. He doesn't have a lot of English, but we still manage pleasantries. And one day he worked up to saying 'Beautiful day!" which was just so wonderful. I wish there was some kind of "OMG I'm so NOT one of them" gift basket I could bring to all my neighbors like Mohammad, you know?
But the point is, the one nice thing that's happened is that now we know two more of our neighbors by name. We've made plans to get together for coffee or deserts or just to say 'hey, still here. Still alive' to each other... and who knows, maybe start the revolution.
The only upside to my nerves is that I've been walking away from social media to do busy work. With the weather being unseasonably warm (another sign of the impending apocalypse), I've been raking all the leaves. We have one maple tree, the one out front, that has very broad leaves that refuse to fall until mid-Novemeber regardless. Normally, this means the leaves fall on snow. Most years I end up having to rake them in spring and by then the baby-shoots of grass have suffocated.
This year, I got most of them up. I also put to bed gardens that I ignored most of the rainy summer, too.
Though it was colder than usual yesterday, I got anxious again and worked on finishing the front. Our neighbor James said asked me how I was. James is an African-American photographer. He's married to Katherine, a white woman, who a anthropology professor at Hamline. They have an adult daughter, Mali, who is of course mixed race. At first I lied. I said the thing you're supposed to say, "I'm fine." Then, I thought, "No, you know, I'm really not and I should say so." James and Katherine and Mali have as much at stake as Shawn and Mason and me. So, I said, "Actually, the election has made me sick." At first he dismissed it with a, "Don't even start," which I completely respect. A lot of people I know are in the hiding phase. They've left social media for good or are just out of evens (for the moment.)
Later, James came back to chat a little. Even though he's black, he seems to be taking the "wait and see" approach. James is very much a dyed-in-the-wool liberal, whose politics have been shifting center with the rest of the party. Both he and Katherine are very middle class. Or at least they're 'professorial class' with aspirations towards middle. We'd previously had an "anybody but Hillary" conversation. So even though I'm sure he voted against Trump, I'm not sure he voted for Hillary, if you know what I mean. I don't think he's the type to go third party, but even if he did, I wouldn't blame him. I blame the people who didn't show up. I blame the people who blocked voters from voting.
Even so, we both agreed Trump's election was beyond tragic. I told him about my plans to volunteer. He nodded, but his air was one of cynicism. Again, given that he's African-American I can hardly disagree with his experience or tell him to have hope, when I see so little myself.
I waved good-bye and told him to stay safe.
Another neighbor, one I didn't know, came strolling by. We'd shared a few 'hellos' but nothing else. Our conversation stayed mostly to the weather and the never-ending task of yard work. There was something about the guy, though, that made me think maybe he was family. So, again when we said good-bye, I impulsively added, "Hey, stay safe."
He looked a tiny bit shocked (he was white), but said, "You, too!"
I didn't think much more of it, other than to wonder if I was going to just add 'stay safe' to my good-bye rituals from then on out. But I was just about finished with the front (I swear I was out there almost two hours), when here came the same neighbor again. He had another guy in tow, and I instantly thought, "OH! that's going to be his partner!"
Sure enough. My chatty neighbor was Michael and I was introduced to Jon, his partner. They came down, ostensibly to go to the gym (a YMCA is at the end of our block on the other side of University), but really wanted to find out if we were family, too. So I introduced myself and said, "and I live here with my wife Shawn and our son Mason." It was nice. We exchanged business cards and commiserated. We talked about rumors of violence; I told them about the very real violence that happened at the bookstore. We worried about their next door neighbors, an extended Somali family and I found out the guy I've been waving to and saying hello to for years is named Mohammad.
He walks very slowly with a cane and because he pauses a lot to rest, I've always gone out of my way to wave and say hello. He doesn't have a lot of English, but we still manage pleasantries. And one day he worked up to saying 'Beautiful day!" which was just so wonderful. I wish there was some kind of "OMG I'm so NOT one of them" gift basket I could bring to all my neighbors like Mohammad, you know?
But the point is, the one nice thing that's happened is that now we know two more of our neighbors by name. We've made plans to get together for coffee or deserts or just to say 'hey, still here. Still alive' to each other... and who knows, maybe start the revolution.