I haven’t written a proper blog in ages, this post will be no different. Ha ha. To be honest, I haven’t been writing that much. What I have been doing is reading obsessively, watching Ken Burns documentaries, and picking out paint swatches for our home office. What’s that? Did you just say I was a nerd? RUDE (but true). My latest hobby is collecting old books. You can’t have a home office without lots of books. We’ve also taken to cooking more and trying new recipes. When the pandemic is over, everyone is invited her to my house for supper. 😌
In other news, is anyone else glad 2020 is behind us? 2021 is shaping up to be a more hopeful year with a new president and the promise of inoculation against Covid. It’s just heartbreaking all the lives that have been lost. I don’t know anyone it hasn’t affected in some way. My brother got the virus last month, but has recovered. My sister-in-law is currently in the hospital battling it. Say a prayer for her. Thankfully, she is getting really good care The medical field has really made strides when it comes to treating those with Covid, it’s just sad that some hospitals are so overcrowded and people can’t get the help they need I wish that this pandemic had been handled better from the start. Our government really let us down, but let’s not get into politics.
Anyway, I just wanted to touch base with you all. I hope you are well and managing. I think that’s all any of us can do at the moment. On a random note, Jon Stewart is now on Twitter. Oh my God, my tweeting life is complete. 😜❤️
How about we end with a little music from Dashboard Confessional…
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek— And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one’s own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean— Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That’s made America the land it has become. O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home— For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore, And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came To build a “homeland of the free.”
Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we’ve dreamed And all the songs we’ve sung And all the hopes we’ve held And all the flags we’ve hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay— Except the dream that’s almost dead today.
O, let America be America again— The land that never has been yet— And yet must be—the land where every man is free. The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME— Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose— The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives, We must take back our land again, America!
O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath— America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain— All, all the stretch of these great green states— And make America again!
“Oh, I’d call my mother and tell her I’m sorry I never call her back I’d pour my heart and soul out into a letter And send it to my dad Like, oh my God, the time I’ve wasted Lost in my head Let me leave this world with the hate behind me And take the love instead Give me Only love, only love Give me Only love, only love”
Recently, we put our handy dandy masks on and headed downtown for a walk outside. It was a gorgeous night, perfect for a stroll. On our adventure we encountered some new friends, allow me to introduce you to them.
There’s nothing better than an impromptu walk with you in the brilliance that is October. The forest mysterious and unknown beckons us. Strolling through the pines we leave footprints under a lilacs sky. We hold hands, and dream in tandem, no words needed. I smile as I catch the blueness of your eyes, canopied by shimmering leaves, the air fragrant with fall, our wordless history comes alive. In this moment, everything feel simple and spectacular. The world brightens in autumn air with the sweetness of old love found anew.
We recently had some landscaping done to our front yard and a crêpe myrtle put in. Here are the results. I’m looking forward to seeing everything bloom in the spring.