2019 heads out

The boys have the flu, the real, stinking flu, and Tom and I bidding the last of our very crappy colds adieu. He just got home from work, and I can hear him hacking as he walks up to the door.
Several of my dearest friends are dealing with seriously challenging stuff, and our country is, in my opinion, not doing well.

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I don’t feel terribly festive, but I am trying to focus on all that I am grateful for and look ahead to the enormity of the work that needs to be done in 2020 with balance and hope.

I wish you all the best in health and happiness. Cheers!

Impeachment

The past weeks, month, who knows, have been a whirlwind of intensely watching CSPAN, admiring the f**k out of and fan-girling over, in no particular order:

Marie Yovanovitch, Fiona Hill, Adam Schiff, Daniel Goldman, Eric Swalwell, Nancy Pelosi, Jamie Raskin, Bill Taylor, George Kent, Colonel Vindman, Laura Cooper, David Holmes, Val Demings, Jim Himes, Sean Patrick Maloney, and Pramila Jayapal.

Many others shone, too, but the above public servants and congressional members were magnificent in their command of information, expertise, gravitas, and service. I am thankful for Americans like them. I have written thank you notes to some, tweeted and called thanks to others. They are examples of the best of us, and while I know this has not been an easy time for any of us, they have born the weight of the impeachment process and have gone above and beyond their patriotic and moral duty.

(Thanksgiving was slotted in there, and it was magnificent with a trip to southern California to take the boys to Disneyland and Galaxy’s Edge and to see one of my very best college friends, Amy, and her family. More on Galaxy’s Edge later).

Last night’s more-than-600 impeachment rallies around the country were very moving, and this morning, a regular resister sister, Julie, and I met at the Capitol for DC’s impeachment rally.

I supposed, after these years of protesting and fighting against the relentless horrors of the trump administration, that this day of impeachment might involve some feelings of joy, or at least celebration. Nobody is above the law, and finally, trump would realize that includes him.

But today, though sunny and determined, was solemn and tense. Speakers spoke, the crowd chanted and cheered at times, but everyone seemed exhausted and stunned by how ugly and bad things are, and sick of having to withstand the hourly onslaught of detestable behavior by the person who is supposed to care for all Americans and actively doesn’t; whose oath is supposed to be to Country but who only cares about himself; who lies and cheats and demeans and harms; who is surrounded by spineless enablers who with him throw laws and norms out the windows with smug abandon.

About an hour in, an eagle soared over us. A collective gasp followed, and I felt tears prick my eyes. I had a busy day so I left the rally not long after and have felt weepy since.

Tonight, the voting didn’t take long; the results were as expected. I don’t know that I’ll ever understand why the Republicans in Congress have ceded brain and spine to slavishly follow such a terribly flawed, bad person. Mis- and dis-information play big roles- if you only watched the absurd propaganda that is Fox News and crap like InfoWars, you’d probably be pro-trump, too. But those outlets lie. As does trump. Constantly. They traffic in spin and soundbites with no bearing in reality. And our country is weaker and worse and more ignorant and divided for it. And then there’s racism, the hideous through-line of America.

But still.

trump deserves to be impeached, and for much more than just the two articles voted on today. But at some point, he’ll finally be gone, and we’ll all be left bitter, divided, and struggling to pick up the pieces from a razed democracy, trying to keep it, if we can.

Great books by Tana French and Chanel Miller

Y’all, you simply must read all of Tana French’s crime fiction books —the Dublin Murder Squad series— as well as Chanel Miller’s memoir, Know My Name. French’s books are set in and around Dublin, are fabulous thrillers with deep emotional pull and character development, and provide such a riveting sense of place. I’ve devoured six and am about to jump in to the last; I’ve been saving it as I’m crushed to have come to the end of French’s offerings. If forced to rank, I’d start with In The Woods, closely followed or perhaps tied with The Witch Elm, and then, all tied, Faithful Place, The Likeness, and Broken Harbor. The Trespasser is a distant last, and the one that remains is The Secret Place.

These books are so smart, the best sort of exciting, suspenseful escapism. This is a great article about French and her books, while this offers other wonderful Irish crime fiction writers to read once you have, sadly, bid the Murder Squad slán.

The good news, at least, is that Starz is, in mere days, releasing an 8-part series called Dublin Murders based on French’s books. True love is that Tom, without telling me, subscribed to Starz this morning because he knows how much I love these books and will want to watch the show. WOOT!

In the meantime, I must send you in a completely different direction to an extremely non-fictional memoir: Know My Name. Written by Chanel Miller who was, for years, known as Emily Doe, the woman assaulted and abandoned by former Stanford swimmer, Brock Turner, Know My Name is a profoundly gorgeous, powerful, important work. It is searing, painful, strong, inspiring, and human. I considered things I’d not before and was furious with the realizations that we expect so much more of victims than I ever conceived of. What happened to Chanel is appalling, that Brock served just three months is as grotesque, but if there is a silver lining of any sort, it’s that Miller turned her trauma and pain into something truly remarkable, something that I suspect has offered comfort to millions more than she will ever know. I hope it also offered her some form of healing.