Hanging on

It's four o'clock on a May Saturday and the afternoon is dark as winter. I have turned the fireplace on low to induce a little cheerfulness into the room. A few minutes ago I heard thunder, and while the rain has stopped, it threatens.

Still, there are pink blooming trees under the gray skies, and purple azaleas, and red and white rhododendrons—shocks of color that are beacons through the rain, inviting us outside to play despite the weather. And I'm tempted. It was reported a few days ago that January through April was the wettest four month period in Oregon history—since at least 1902. No wonder everyone is depressed.

It could be, of course, that the depression stems from another cause—Trump's inability to control his tweeting, maybe, or the barrage of lies coming from the White House, or the shocking inability of most Republicans to put country before party.

I have tried to keep politics out of the blog, but it's simply impossible at this point. For one thing, it is, outside of caring for Ray, the thing that most occupies my mind. What happens in Washington will in the long run affect me and everyone I care about—from the potential loss of health care, to the threatened loss of national monuments, the dismantling of the EPA, the risk to our constitutional government, to the greatest peril of all, climate change. It's easy to be overcome, for it all matters; it matters a great deal.

The comparison to Watergate was inevitable but this is far worse. Watergate was about a break-in and consequent coverup by an unscrupulous president and his aides. This "gate" extends beyond the president to include the dangerous influence of Russia; and the man who purports to be in charge appears incapable of speaking without lying. He is ignorant of the contents of his own so-called health plan, ignorant of our governmental functions and norms, ignorant of the Constitution itself. He knows no empathy, his only motivation is to feed his narcissistic ego and enrich himself and his family.

But I cannot let myself go down that rabbit hole. No matter how dire the world looks from where I sit, I have only so much time and energy to give. So I recall the excitement of the Women's March and the continuing efforts of all who resist to fight for fairness in healthcare, to demand an independent counsel, and to divine truth through the lies. Americans are awake and speaking truth to power. This is all good.

And though the sun outside our windows is obscured by dark clouds, we know it's up there, producing heat and light and shining fiercely. And that light will break through one day. It will. And so will we.