Blog

My friends,

It’s been so long since I’ve written here, I have no idea if any of you are still around to read this. If you are, then please know, I didn’t mean to abandon you, and I’m sorry. I have really struggled to write anything, even in my journal.

I have become deeply involved in local politics, and that’s where nearly all of my focus and energy goes. All my writing has been newsletters, social media content, minutes, etc., for the party. So much so that I have neglected other important things like keeping my office in a state conducive to creative writing.

Many other self-care activities had also fallen by the wayside until a few weeks back, when I had a near meltdown. I was feeling so overwhelmed and anxious, but I was holding it in so tightly that I didn’t even realize how close to the edge I was. Thank goodness I have a great therapist who helped me through it.

I’m writing now because I finally processed, I think, all that I had taken on and in. I love the sense of purpose and community I feel as an officer of the local party, but with all activities currently on hiatus for the holidays, I am feeling the ability to breathe and relax.

However, this has allowed the encroachment of feeling the loss of my writing every day, of being creative and telling stories. I feel like I’ve become one-dimensional…with only politics to fill my days. But this weekend, I finally had a weekend full of other things.

I had an online book club meeting, where any talk of politics was secondary. We had a friend over for an art weekend. We did talk some politics, I just don’t know how it’s possible not to anymore, but again it wasn’t the focus.

We had a yummy dinner that my wife and I created together, watched an interesting documentary about Tanya Tucker, and drank a bottle of really good chardonnay. We completed an art therapy project, which I admit I didn’t really do well, but I enjoyed listening to music, chatting with our friend, and coloring.

I really like coloring. It’s restful. It allows for a bit of creativity in choosing colors and where to apply them, but it isn’t a blank canvas, which is very daunting.  

I even got to watch the Broncos clinch the bye in the first round of the playoffs and a couple of really good women’s college basketball games. I also read…a lot. I finished two books this weekend and seven since Thanksgiving.

There are many things I didn’t do that I think I probably should feel guilty about, but I don’t. I usually have all my Christmas cards out by now. Every year, my list of people I send cards to gets smaller and smaller. Frankly, I’m just too tired to do them this year, and I really don’t feel guilty about it. A little sad perhaps, because it means a loss of some connections to my past. However, most of those who are most important to me, we connect digitally nowadays anyway.

So if you’re reading this and you’re one of those who used to get cards, I am sorry, but this is it. I still wish for you to have a happy and safe holiday season, but you won’t be receiving a stamped 3×5 card that says so. I hope you’ll understand that it’s not my love for you that has diminished. It’s just been a traumatic year, and I’m exhausted.

Please take care of yourselves and those you love.

-Me

P.S. Most of the above was written before I saw the major headlines from this weekend. Just when I feel like I can’t grieve or feel outrage anymore, the universe reminds me it’s not true.

Inconceivable.

TW: Profanity

I’m not sure if anyone has noticed, but it’s been a while since I’ve written here. I’ve been considering shutting down the blog completely, but when the bill came to renew the domain, I decided I still want a place to air my grievances and wax poetic where I don’t have to hold back.

I am feeling a bit constrained because I am now actively pursuing a goal of replacing Maggits with decent human beings, and the things I say and how I say them in a public forum can, possibly, do more harm than good.

So I need a space where I can say “Wake the Fuck Up!” Even if I’m only saying it to a small handful of other woke folks.

I was watching MSNBC when this graphic appeared:

The speaker (no idea if he was a reporter, analyst, or whatever) said we need to start speaking like regular people and stop using these words and phrases.

How am I supposed to not say or write about LGBTQIA+?  Look at how many other items on this list are about me and my community too: Cisgender, Heteronormative, Patriarchy.

What are we supposed to say instead? I do tend to use queer more than the alphabet, but is that what he meant? It didn’t feel like it. It felt like he was saying we have to stop talking about the gays.

WTF?

Unsurprisingly, the analyst did not provide the answer to that question. Telling us to stop using these words without providing different words implies we should stop talking about these subjects. That is not acceptable.

Recently, I’ve also been hearing a lot about how we need to learn how to talk to men. Last week at our first informal party gathering, one woman said we are scaring the men and another woman agreed with her. Both were older white women.

Again I ask WTF?

When are men going to stop being snowflakes and stop centering themselves? And when are women going to stop coddling and centering them? I know I’m sounding like a man-hating feminist harpy but goddamn!

If the men in our county wanted things to be run a certain way, then why didn’t they step up at the convention for an officer position? Why haven’t they volunteered to chair a committee? Or organize an event? Or contribute to the newsletter? Argh!

It makes me so angry and frustrated, which makes me cry, which makes me even angrier. Stop the madness!

It must sound like I regret getting involved in local politics. I do not. I am thoroughly enjoying the work, even though it sometimes exasperates me. It’s filling me with a sense of purpose—that I’m doing something to protect my family and friends. I also get to use some of my skills and talents, which is gratifying.

I am also doing a lot more work than I anticipated. It feels a bit like I’m working full-time again, which I’m pretty sure Tennessee is not very happy about, but she likes that I feel good about it. And she says she’s proud of me, which fills me with joy. Can’t ask for more than that.

I hope y’all are finding ways to experience joy during these scary times. Take care, my friends.

Songs

I’ve been listening to the following two songs on repeat over and over every time I get in the car: Savage Daughter by Sarah Hester Rose and Little Girl Gone by Chinchilla

I discovered both songs on TikTok a while back, and they still resonate with me. Every time I get smacked by the patriarchy in its various forms, these songs give me back some of my girl power.

Books

I have been very busy with my new role as county party secretary. I love the hope and community it gives me. It takes a great deal of my time, though, so I don’t get to read as often as I used to. The only book of the three I read this month (for book clubs) that I would recommend is “Sisters in Arms” by Kaia Alderson.

It is the type of historical fiction I love best—telling about the real-life women whose stories were erased. It is the story of the Six Triple Eight, the only all-Black battalion of the Women’s Army Corps. It was really good, and I’m looking forward to watching the movie based on it.

Other Pieces

As I stated above, I have been really busy, so I am double-dipping, so to speak. The next two sections are pieces that have or will be published in the county party’s newsletter. Some of what they contain may be nothing new for some of you, but the rest of you may learn some new things about me.

Gatherings

There is something so powerful about gathering with people in a social setting for a common cause. The third week of every month is book club week for me. I have one in-person and two virtual meetings.

I love catching up with my old friends in the virtual ones, but the energy and joy I experience meeting with my new friends at the library is one of my favorite things. We discuss the book, and I love hearing their perspective, but my favorite part is listening to them share about their lives.

Some of these women have known each other for many years. Sometimes I’m envious when they discuss people or events in that shorthand people use with family and old friends. I used to feel like a complete outsider, but now I just listen and soak up the energy, and I feel included even when I have no idea what they are talking about.

Hello Sequatchie Dems

My name is Miriam Banach (Hay), and I am the SCDP Secretary. My journey to becoming a Sequatchie County resident mirrors my journey to becoming a Democrat in many ways. It primarily revolves around rebellion.

I am the granddaughter of missionaries and the daughter of a preacher who married my mother, a descendant of Spanish Conquistadors and Mapuche Indians. I was in 3rd grade when I first experienced racism. My mother picked me up from school one day, and my classmates realized I wasn’t as white as they thought. I had to defend myself by saying I was Chilean, not a dirty (insert popular Mexican slur). I learned young how lucky I was that I could pass as white and was diligent in ensuring no one found out otherwise.

I began rebelling against my conservative upbringing in my teens. I dated and later married my son’s father, a long-haired musician. I joined the US Air Force to travel and get an education, which I did despite the interruption of Desert Storm. I spent six years traveling on four continents—more than enough experience to remind me why our country is special and unique and worth fighting for, even with all its flaws.

I started working for the Federal government after returning to Colorado as a civilian, and as such, was not allowed to participate in partisan politics. To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to it anyway. I was raising a child on the spectrum, working full time, and using the GI Bill to get my degree.

When I thought about it at all, I considered myself an independent: fiscally conservative and socially liberal. I believed that we needed the safety net for those on the fringes, but the Dems’ fiscal policies tended to hurt some of the people they were trying to help because they were taking big money from special interests, too. As far as I was concerned, both parties were two halves of the same side of the coin.

Nationally, I never voted Republican because my father had become even more conservative, and I was neutralizing his vote. Locally, though, I voted person over party every time. It wasn’t until Barack Obama that I finally voted for a Democrat rather than against the other side.

Then my world fell apart. I got divorced, nearly died from some serious health issues, and my father died, all in less than 3 years.

In the years that followed, I discovered a community of faith that resonated with me: Buddhism. Though I’m no longer a member (they were too evangelical for me), I still believe in many of the tenets. The practice forced me to look inward and find out who I really was, why I was always so angry, and why I never felt like I fit anywhere.

This journey of discovery helped me heal, but it also took me almost as far away from the patriarchal ideal as one can get. I was already a not-white woman, but now I was also not Christian and not straight (not young or thin either).

Then came Trump and COVID. I was already leaning left anyway, but I knew I couldn’t straddle the fence anymore. I had to pick a side.

When I met my wife and we decided I should move here, I was scared. Not just that I wouldn’t fit in, but that our lives could be in real danger. Up until recently, it felt like we were drowning as lonely blue dots in a sea of red. I’m so thrilled to know it’s not just the two of us.

I am retired now, thanks to DOGE, and as such, I can fully participate in politics. And now that I have the time, I fully intend to do so. All of us together can make a difference.

Looking Ahead

I’ve managed to clean up some of the clutter that was causing unwelcome chaos in my space. I’m hoping that will lead to a more conducive space for writing fiction, but for now, I’m content to just be writing.

Take care of yourselves, my friends, and make good trouble if you can.

This was an exciting week for me. I had my first non-blog piece published. It was for our new county party newsletter, which we are planning on getting out weekly. It’s an editorial opinion section titled Thought of the Week. Hopefully, others will be contributors, but I can fill in when needed.

It’s pretty short, so I’m going to slip it in here:

I’m finding it exceedingly difficult not to get swallowed up in an abyss of fear and hopelessness, because of this regime’s Gestapo-like cruelty. Why do so many of these people not see the harm they are causing with their callous disregard for their neighbors? There are so many unanswerable questions. I really do want to understand. 

But who do I ask?

I have always struggled with my own intolerance and judgmental nature. Ironically, it’s often been aimed at those who are intolerant and pass judgment on those who cannot conform to the artificial constructs of our society. 

But how is that helpful? 

I can put myself between the aggressive and the vulnerable, but that just makes me a wall. How can I be a bridge instead to help safely connect them?  I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to answer that, but I do know I can’t just be a wall, nor can I do it alone. 

—Thanks to my editor, KG, for making me less wordy. We both liked the bridge metaphor.—  

I have a friend who is certain we are headed to a literal civil war and is fully prepared to participate. She already has her walls up, and heavy artillery is mounted on top of them. Again, more literal and less figurative than you might think, as she is former special forces, and scarier than I’m willing to admit to her face. I absolutely agree with her desire to protect the vulnerable, but she believes the time for bridge building is over, and we need to advance and take back all the ground we fought so hard for once and have now lost.

With all due respect to my good friend, I really hope she’s wrong.

So here’s the thing—without that bridge, it means we all have to fight in the muddy trenches, where we all get dirty, and lots of people die. At the risk of taking this metaphor too far, I think what we need to do is push to get that bridge built while we provide cover fire for our vanguard and still protect our flank.

I hear so many people saying the Democrats may want a big tent, but that it’s not possible. They say that Zohran Mamdani and former Republican Representative Joe Walsh (now a conservative Democrat) can’t exist under that tent together. I call bullshit. So does Mr. Walsh:

Former GOP Congressman-Turned-Democrat Says the Democratic Party ‘Should Be Big Enough For Mamdani and Me’

Let’s go back to my war metaphor.

Think of Progressives like Mr. Mamdani and AOC as our vanguard. They will push back the invaders, taking the hits from and distracting the far-right, while trampling the roadblocks and exposing the things that no longer work.

This gives those of us in the middle the room we need to build the bridges, repair supply lines, and provide cover fire for the vanguard. Think non-violent protesting, get-out-the-vote and fund-raising activities like social media blitzes, phone banks, and door knocking, meet-and-greets like pancake breakfasts, and all the old and new things that campaigns do.

As for the old school and more conservative Dems, they would be the ones guarding our flank, helping to protect the most vulnerable, and making sure we don’t lose any more ground. Their knowledge of history is invaluable if we don’t want to keep making the same mistakes.

One final thought. Having a bridge makes it easier for the hostages and deserters to flee or come home

I have no idea if this metaphor works in practice because I’m not a big picture person, but I like the concept. You can’t win a war without building bridges…just ask any good strategist or even a tactician.

Ok, I think that’s enough of that metaphor. Suffice it to say, I am loving that I get to be part of the solution. It gives me purpose and hope. Despite all its flaws, I love this country and I am still willing to fight to protect it. I just don’t want to ever have to carry a gun again.

Take care, my friends, and have a gentle day.

Independence Day came and went with a lot of noise. Fireworks are apparently legal and cheap here since my neighbors have been shooting them off for days. Last year, I actively participated in our small town’s biggest event, the 4^th of July parade. I was a newlywed, and we were happy and hopeful about the future.

Not so this year. Not that we aren’t happy and hopeful as a couple-we are. But the world we live in is so much darker than it was last year. It’s a constant battle not to give in to the despair and fear.

The cognitive dissonance and casual cruelty displayed on social media from some of my neighbors is so disheartening. The glee they express when re-posting memes about alligators eating Latinos makes my blood run both hot and cold.

Here’s the thing, though, it also deeply upsets me how callous “our” side has been. I’m an avid believer in FAFO, cause and effect, etc. But telling the parents of those little girls who have died in the Texas flooding that this is what they voted for is beyond cruel. It’s no different than those who tell undocumented parents whose families are being ripped apart that they shouldn’t have come here for a better life.

We’ve become just like them, and it makes me sad and angry. We can push back when officials blame NOAA with reminders of who dismantled and unfunded NOAA without telling all those mothers that their vote killed their daughters.

Yes, it was a church camp in deep red Texas, but that doesn’t mean she voted red. We can’t know if that mother had to have a life-saving procedure after a miscarriage, or that she knew that it could happen to her or someone she loved, and so she voted blue. We can’t know any of that. All we know is that children are dead and their families are grieving.

My heart aches for those mothers and for what our country has become. It’s almost enough to make me withdraw completely, to stay in my little bubble with my beautiful wife and ignore the outside world, hoping it never intrudes before we die.

I watched the movie, Independence Day, last night and cried during the scene when the President is giving the speech below:

“Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind. “Mankind.” That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it’s fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom… Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution… but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: “We will not go quietly into the night!” We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!”

How can I just pretend that what’s happening out in there world won’t affect us? As a non-Christian queer woman of color (yes I know I’m passing) I feel like I’m having to fight for my right to exist, to not be annihilated. This terrible legislation that just passed is going to have a lot of people finding out, and the rest of us are going to suffer with them just like we have been with the other crap that has been happening these last six months.

I can’t pretend it’s not happening. If there is even the slightest chance that I can make a difference, I have to try. Try to hold folks accountable without demeaning them. Have compassion for them when they FA’d, and the FO is devastating. Forgive and embrace them when they see the light. Easier said than done when you’re angry and scared, but necessary if we are to survive, let alone heal as a nation.

Be kind and take care of yourselves, my friends.

The year is half over. We survived, but damn. The Spring Equinox and Summer Solstice came and went unfazed by our tiny human dramas.

They don’t feel tiny to me, though. A racist, misogynistic, bigoted predator has been wreaking have with his malignant narcissism, destroying our economy, our standing in the world, and so many lives. The amount of damage he has caused just to me and mine would take up pages that I just don’t have the energy to write.

Despite being forced to retire and losing what was a big part of my identity; despite dealing with the fear, anger, and anxiety that accompanies so much chaos and change; despite living in a place where so many of my “neighbors” abhor and fear who I am and are, either actively or passively, working toward destroying me, my family, my friends, our way of life, civility, decency, and our democracy; despite all of that, I am happier, more hopeful, and more full of purpose than I have ever been in my life.

I love my wife and the life we are building and creating together—our garden is lush, and the rest of the yard is looking good too, as we make it welcoming for family and friends. Now we just need to invite them over more often.

I do, however, admit to maybe taking on more than I was fully prepared for: a Harvard class, Democratic Party Secretary, beta reader and editor, writer, book club leader, and member of two more. There are days I feel so overwhelmed that I end up shutting down, but I would make these same decisions again every time.

I was always good at imposing order on the chaos in my life. The fact that I’ve not had this much chaos ever in my life, or at least not for many years, just means it will take some time and effort to get my shit together, especially since I’m not as young as I was, or as healthy.

However, I’d like to think that the wisdom and experience I’ve gained over the years are worth some of that youth. If I could just get this stupid executive dysfunction, which has slowly crept into my aging brain, to stop being quite so dysfunctional, I might actually be able to put some of this chaos into order.

Or not. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

I apologize for not posting more, but I hope you’ll all stay tuned to see how it’s going. Take care of each other and yourselves, my friends.

I had a whole different blog planned today, but the events of yesterday sort of kicked those off the table: a murdered politician, a massive manhunt, protests, and a parade. Turnout for the many No Kings events was even better than anticipated—even in Minnesota, where they tried to cancel–and they were peaceful. Turnout for the expensive birthday vanity parade was less than expected and totally lame. Did you see the soldiers not marching in lockstep, no unity at all? Sad.

I’ve just finished Week 3 of my Harvard course on Rhetoric. I know you already know it’s a Harvard course, but, well, you know.

Anyway, I’ve submitted my first assignment. Since I’m auditing the class, I don’t get a grade, but we’re encouraged to get peer feedback and to try and get it published. Well, y’all are my peers, and this is my blog where I can publish whatever I want. Feel free to skip to the end if you’re not interested. (I’ve posted some pics from our backyard.)

If you are interested, here’s a bit of background. Our newly formed county party has some real newbies to the political process, including me. There seems to be some hesitation about where we should start, though there have been some good suggestions from one of our committee members. We disagree slightly on what to focus on, so since I needed to do an assignment, I used this situation to write about.

Enjoy—or not—up to you.

Our first campaign as the newly elected Executive Committee should be letting our neighbors know that we’re here.

When was the last time a Democrat was elected in Sequatchie County? There hasn’t been an active Democratic presence in the two years I’ve been here, and my wife, who has lived here most of her life, says it’s been longer than that.

According to the Tennessee elections website, Bill Harmon was the last one elected here over fifteen years ago. Missy Crutchfield made several visits here during her campaign, and she had a decent turnout in Hamilton County in November, but it wasn’t even close here. (https://www.elections.tn.gov/)

When Gloria Johnson came here on a campaign stop, only six of us showed up. We are small blue dots in an ocean of red. It feels, however, that the tide may be turning.

I know you’ve heard it too. The rumblings we’ve been hearing from the right about how they “did not vote for this”.  They did, in fact, vote for that, but are we going to just leave them in their “Find Out” befuddlement?  I believe that would be a mistake.

These folks fall into two categories: Those who believed the lies without questioning, and those who thought it would only happen to other people and were okay with it. Both groups are facing hard truths about themselves, and we have a chance to help them. Many will continue to live in denial, but maybe we can “convert” some of them by giving them an alternative. In order to do that, we must have a visible and vocal presence here.

However delightful it would be to win these folks over, they aren’t the ones we really need.  We need to reach those who didn’t vote at all.

The Sequatchie Post, an online news site, asked its Facebook followers on May 9, 2025, to explain why, out of 3,114 registered voters in Dunlap, only 846 people voted in the recent mayoral election. They only had a few legit responses: apathy, laziness, and bad weather.  https://sos-prod.tnsosgovfiles.com/s3fs-public/document/2024%20November%20Turnout%20Report.pdf)

Small local elections typically have a bad turnout. However, thirty-one percent of registered voters in Sequatchie County did not vote in the November 2024 election either. (https://www.elections.tn.gov/)

While I did vote in the November election, I was one of those who did not vote for Mayor in May. I was demoralized by the previous election and the resulting chaos. I thought, “What’s the point?” I could count on one hand the number of yard signs I remember seeing in this town supporting a Democrat back in November.

When I found out about our reorganization convention, I was hopeful but resigned to being with only a handful of others.  I was excited to see how many people attended, and to hear how many more wanted to be there but had scheduling conflicts. How many didn’t see the tiny, almost hidden press release in the paper or the notice on Facebook? How many thought they were alone? How many are waiting for a nudge reminding them that they can still do the right thing?

Regardless of why folks voted the way they did or did not vote at all, these are our people. They are not alone. Others want to save this sinking ship, too. They need to know we are here and that they are welcome.

Gratuitous backyard photos

This past week, I’ve been in near constant battle mode with inertia. Every task seems to require a Herculean effort to begin. Once I get started, I can usually complete the task or chore, but if I rest or take a break, the effort to restart feels monumental again.

I’m not just talking about physical tasks either. I started a book club book that I was enjoying, but I can’t seem to pick it back up. I’ve scheduled one week to complete each module in my class, but I’ve barely started the second module, and week three starts tomorrow.

I met with the other county party officers for our first get-together this past week and came home with several tasks that I haven’t even looked at yet. Even starting this blog this morning took getting my second cup of coffee before I could even put pen to pad.

I have no idea why lethargy and demotivation are creeping in. I have been calling inertia a bitch all week. I will literally be sitting on the couch needing to go to the bathroom and I have to psych myself up just to stand.

 It’s ridiculous.

I’ve made it sound as if I’ve done nothing this past week, which isn’t true. I have done quite a bit, actually. I’m just complaining about how hard it was to get started on nearly every task.

Seeing my brand-new tarot deck on my desk, I decided I’d ask the universe why inertia is bothering me. I pulled the Empress card, which is the card for abundance, nurturing, and creativity. How I chose to interpret this card is that the Empress sent inertia to remind me to slow down and appreciate my abundance, to remember that most of these tasks are things I “get” to do, not things I “have” to do. I’ve chosen many of these activities to enrich my life, and maybe in the process help others.

After I pulled this card, I went outside to enjoy the morning instead of struggling to finish writing this. It is glorious out there. The garden is getting quite lush, the sun felt good on my skin, the breeze kept the sun from being too hot, and the birds filled the air with music. It was nearly perfect.

 The scene was only missing my wife, who was still sleeping—recovering from our house guests’ visit. We loved having all of them here, but we are both used to our solitude. Peopling takes lots of energy, even when you love those people so much and have such gratitude that they are in your life. Lil J’Dawg is getting so big, and his verbal skills are now so good that we don’t have to guess what he wants anymore. He is very good at letting us know.

It was great to catch up with Lil J’Dawg’s momma, Tennessee’s BFF, and their former roommate, too. Loved, loved, loved seeing all of them. And now love, love, love that it’s just us today.

I’ve come to the conclusion that today should just be a day for gratitude and recovery, so I’m just going to set aside the to-do list and get back to it tomorrow. After all, capitalism allows Sundays to be rest days and back to the grindstone on Mondays, right?

Take care of yourselves, my friends.

“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it.” — Paulo Coelho

I did a thing this week. I signed up for one of the free online classes that Harvard is offering. The class is called “Rhetoric: The Art of Persuasive Writing and Public Speaking.” It’s the only writing class in the current catalog of free courses. It’s also a nudge from the Universe that this could provide me with tools to use my writing to make a difference.

Just by taking a class with Harvard that is also open to international students, I am committing an act of defiance. If what I learn can help make a difference in one or all of my intersecting communities, it is also a way I can act that costs nothing but my time and effort.

Currently, I write to inform or entertain. There are occasional blogs or posts where I’m trying to persuade you to do something. But asking a few friends to do a favor is not the same as trying to get MAGA to see me and others like me as human beings due the same basic rights they have.

One of the ways that we learn how to be good at Rhetoric is to watch and listen to those who are and were good at it.  Earlier this week, I listened to and followed along with the transcript of Martin Luther King. Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech.

It brought me to tears to know that we are still so far away from his dream and are currently going the wrong way. What else I realized is that it is the first time I have ever listened to that speech all the way through. I admit to feeling a bit of shame at that revelation. Given how whitewashed our education system is, though, I’m not surprised that I didn’t get it at school.

But somewhere along my journey to try and get woke, I should have studied it, right?

Nothing to be gained by shame here, though, so I will focus on what made this speech so compelling so that maybe I can incorporate some of that magic into my writing. It has to be said that no matter how good the writing was, this speech only truly had magic because of the way it was delivered.

As this week progressed and I did more homework, a tiny sprout of an idea began to form. Then, as I watched some of the talking heads on MSNBC, I heard stories about former federal employees who have started running for political office, and that sprout of an idea grew bigger. When I spoke with my therapist later this week, that sprout became a seedling.

What if I could use my writing to get someone elected?

The point of ramping up the Democratic Party in our county is to get candidates to run for office so that the city and county commissioners will no longer run unopposed, as they have for the last several elections. Maybe we can even overcome some of the gerrymandering and get someone into the state legislature.

I have no desire or, frankly, the skill set, to run for public office. But I do have skills that might help get someone elected. Not sure if it’s my job yet since I haven’t taken the training for the Party Secretary yet, but I think that I will be the one who will be writing the press releases and many of our posts on our FB page.

What if I could be a speech writer too?

I said these words out loud. Granted, I said them to my therapist, who has to keep my secrets, but they were out loud where the universe could absorb them.

This idea really excites me. It’s a way to use what I’m learning from Harvard now and my already present love of writing, and put it to use to move this county a little to the left and make an actual difference in my community.

This spark of hope in my heart feels so fragile. Putting my wish into words and letting it out into the Universe feels so scary, but how else can I manifest it?

Guess I’d better get to work. Take care of yourselves, my friends.

This week, Tennessee and I spent nearly all our time in the garden. So there’s not much to tell this week. We finished getting all our seedlings in the dirt, and I feel so accomplished. All I did was move the dirt from the drop pile to the containers and research what to plant together, but that was way more than what I did last year. Tennessee let me off the hook by reminding me I was still working full-time last year.

She’s the one who actually put the plants into the dirt, and I’m glad because I have no practical experience with that, and she’s a pro. I’m glad that I get to claim some of the credit this year when we gather our harvest. Our tomato, pepper, and squash plants are all flowering, and our marigolds are a bright orange. Something is eating on our basil, though, so I’m researching solutions.

I made us a caprese salad with fresh-cut basil for dinner a couple of nights ago, and the lettuce should be ready to grab some leaves from later this week.

I’m really liking this being a gardener thing.

I wasn’t nearly as successful in getting my books read for my book clubs this month. This is the first time ever that I have not completed any of the three books. One of them I didn’t even start. That is so unlike me, but between the garden and the writing and the politics, I haven’t had much energy or headspace for reading.  

In my writing, I have the opening scene of my second book drafted, and I have an outline (very sketchy) done, too. It feels amazing to be writing again. But my brain just can’t absorb new stuff right now, so books that aren’t related to the craft of writing are on hold for now. I know my wife won’t believe it, but I’m even watching less news.

Maybe I could pick up an old favorite? Even that might be too much, but we’ll see because it’s just too weird not to be reading.

Thus (such a great word that isn’t used very often anymore), I’ve been playing games on my phone while watching Leverage reruns or shows about backyards and gardening. I’ve had some inspiration from those shows, like creating a winding walkway from the back door to our fire pit. That might make mowing harder, however, so I’ll have to clear it with Tennessee.

Her best friend was just here, and we haven’t seen her in a bit. She brought my birthday gifts and a yummy cake. I love the Pride Tarot deck, but I love the embroidered book and flowers more, since she created that herself.

I love homemade gifts!

Back to writing, I spent some time in an online community check-in with some activist sapphic writers last week, and I’m excited to be included. It’s got me thinking again about how I can use my writing to try and make a difference.

Should I ask if I can write a blog for the county Democratic Party’s FB page? Or post anything at all on the page? I know this is the Memorial Day weekend and everyone is busy with family stuff, but I would hate to lose the momentum and enthusiasm we all had from the convention. Someone needs to get the ball rolling. No reason why it can’t be me, right? Well, maybe I should check in with the other officers first. I’ll add that to my to-do list for the week.  

Speaking of Memorial Day, this is my first one in over thirty years where the time off from work wasn’t a big draw for me. I must say that it feels very weird that I miss having three-day weekends to look forward to.

We have a little Veterans Park here in town, and I may go spend some time there tomorrow. We’ll see what the weather does.

Sending Peace and Gratitude to all those brave souls who sacrificed their lives for our country. I will do what I can to make sure this administration doesn’t make their sacrifices have been made in vain.

Take care, my friends.