It’s been hard to write lately.
My mind is so busy worrying about the election, the hurricane, flooding, my new used car, my pets, my son who’s overseas, my son who’s decided he’s transgender, my son who is an aerospace engineer in a country that suddenly doesn’t value engineers as it once did, my own aging . . .
What difference does it make, if I write or not?
Does it feed the dogs/cat, does it end the never-ending flooding?
Does it keep anyone safe?
There are projects listed on a page taped by my computer. I’ve done everything I could not to notice it.
Perhaps I’m depressed? I may be lonely.
The world is a scary place lately.
I’ve lost faith in my country. We care more about other nations than we do ourselves.
I see people fall to one knee and refuse to respect our flag. Whose flag do they respect? What do they think they’re doing? It angers me. It doesn’t make me sympathetic to whatever cause they think they are supporting.
Then I read that singers don’t want to sing the Star Spangled Banner anymore.
I said that when we decided the word “illegal” didn’t mean anything, and we spent time teaching other cultures to our children while ignoring our own, that the country would change dramatically. And it has.
Do you dare say “Merry Christmas” now? You can say and even be applauded for saying greetings in other languages and cultures. We must hide our American values?
What’s there to write about? What the hell is left of America?