We may have a spanking new president, but he's stuck inside the DC sludge factory now. He and his minions have good intentions no doubt, but it's going to take some time to get them going. Maybe a lot of time. How fast did FDR move? At New Deal warp speed? I don't know, and there's no one around for me to ask. If those in my family who could remember were still alive, there's no guarantee they'd tell me anything. My family made money during The Great Depression, hated Roosevelt and called him "that man".
Meanwhile, there's the Zen non-sound of no-business. People are scared. Crime is up.
Last night, in my neighborhood there was a drive-by shooting. My husband and I were just drifting off, when we heard the quick, fast bangs of an automatic handgun: ::pop:: ::pop:: ::pop:: ::pop:: like that. My husband called the police and then, the next day, trooped around the neighborhood to see what others had heard, and came home, his pockets jingling with new stories.
Two of our neighbors had been robbed fairly recently, one of them at gunpoint. The other had his door bashed in and the marauders just came in and grabbed stuff. it's easy to feel unsafe, except it's a terrible feeling to have, so my thoughts are turning to bravery. Outside my iffy neighborhood, I think it's a quality we'll all need.
I know that fear is usually about not getting something we want or losing something we have. Actually, given that definition, I was more scared during the years of the Former Occupant. The ripping noise of our basic rights being torn away got fairly loud. The frightening thing was that life went on, looking about like it always had. I suspect dictatorships look much the same way. Movies often show truckloads of soldiers, but I think it takes a while before they show up. I imagine, for a while at least, the populace is quiet, hoping better times will return.
And now they have.
Meanwhile, there's the Zen non-sound of no-business. People are scared. Crime is up.
Last night, in my neighborhood there was a drive-by shooting. My husband and I were just drifting off, when we heard the quick, fast bangs of an automatic handgun: ::pop:: ::pop:: ::pop:: ::pop:: like that. My husband called the police and then, the next day, trooped around the neighborhood to see what others had heard, and came home, his pockets jingling with new stories.
Two of our neighbors had been robbed fairly recently, one of them at gunpoint. The other had his door bashed in and the marauders just came in and grabbed stuff. it's easy to feel unsafe, except it's a terrible feeling to have, so my thoughts are turning to bravery. Outside my iffy neighborhood, I think it's a quality we'll all need.
I know that fear is usually about not getting something we want or losing something we have. Actually, given that definition, I was more scared during the years of the Former Occupant. The ripping noise of our basic rights being torn away got fairly loud. The frightening thing was that life went on, looking about like it always had. I suspect dictatorships look much the same way. Movies often show truckloads of soldiers, but I think it takes a while before they show up. I imagine, for a while at least, the populace is quiet, hoping better times will return.
And now they have.
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