Once again, it’s nearly 9:00pm as I begin to figure out what to say tonight, pretty late for a guy whose alarm goes off at 5:10am, and who lived a full day’s worth already.
The pace and obligations at work are picking up, heading for a crunch. Admittedly, I’ve been coasting a bit, working best, I’ve found after 42 years and counting in the workforce, with do or die deadlines. Well, it’s that time.
Meanwhile, the home front is typically turbulent. Our L.A. daughter is finally (after more than two weeks) home from a hospitalization caused by her continuing battle with Crohn’s disease, a devastating intestinal condition that I have underlying guilt about since it seems to be inherited from my side of the family.
Our youngest, who himself was hospitalized the same day and released two days later, has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, for which, thankfully, there is effective pharmaceutical treatment; unlike, we’ve all been dismayed to learn, my daughter’s Crohn’s; very serious surgery is going to have to be her relief. And, guess what? MUDGElet No. 3’s bipolar disorder? Also from yr (justifiably) humble svt‘s side of the family tree. Oy, the guilt!
He is living here with us (unable as yet to support himself while he recovers from his breakdown), which is a disconcerting alteration in Mrs. MUDGE‘s and my reasonably comfortable empty nest routine, as well as a financial, and emotional burden.
And, speaking of routine, our middle son, and his wife, and our granddog, greet us every day around 6:00am, as their nearby condominium’s one and only bathroom is being rehabbed, and showers before work, for the humans — I do draw the line! — are necessary.
And my dear mother continues to battle her dread disease, acute myeloid leukemia; still living on her own at age 81, but lately causing her family increased anxiety after taking a fall last weekend. That black eye at the top of this post doesn’t do justice to hers.
So that’s why Faithful Reader has seen more than a few of our recycled posts over the past several weeks.
Not for lack of material, however, as the election circus goes into its final stage.
A big election about small things, the man says, and they really must think the electorate is stupid, indeed. Aren’t you tired of that cynicism? That phony outrage? That underqualified stand-in, who is only suitable to be a heartbeat away from Alaska?
This year of all years, it’s time to prove those cynical plutocrats and plutocrat wannabe’s, those religious extremists and science deniers; those manufacturers on a moments notice of flagrantly artificial outrage: it’s time to prove that it’s not their country any longer.
This nation belongs to people who still believe in the promise that 300 years of nation building have cultivated, and 40 years of “conservative” wrong-headedness have blighted. The promise of justice for all, not just white male plutocrats; the promise for a woman’s right to choose what’s best for her reproductive health; the promise for fairly paid employment, with affordable benefits (including quality health care) for anyone, from anywhere, who cares to work for it. This is what’s at risk and at stake.
We, the moderates, the progressives, the gays and Jews and women, we must vote to reclaim our country.
If you’re not registered: do so!
If you know someone who’s not registered: get them to town hall immediately!
When it’s your turn to cast your ballot, remember the 300 years of promise (mainly) delivered, and the 40 years of cynical, Swift-boating blight that must be flushed away.
And remind your neighbors and friends to do the same. Drive them to the polling place if you have to!
It’s it for now. Thanks,