“Ignorance is the parent of fear.” Herman Melville, Moby-Dick, Page 30 or “This is Fine Kettle of Fish” Laurel and Hardy

Should we walk on egg shells or throw the eggs?

Am I “In the Driver’s Seat” for the coming siege or Is it “Jesus, Take the Wheel? “Do I remain ignorant and stare at the ceiling at 3AM wondering if we are on our way to living in Allende’s Chile or do I read everything I can get my hands on and wait for Hillary and Michelle to give me a buzz, asking for my opinion. Is there something in the middle or has that ship sailed up the Amazon… with Amazon? All unknowns-There is no real answer. Haunted by the events in Asheville and Palisades/Altadena , are we denying climate change as a party policy? I am not going to post photos of natural disaster. You can hear me.

I sought a form of escape by reading a good biography about Lafayette. You know he was very big with Maine and Maine loved him. The bio is stirring, recapturing a young, very brave Mason-led free thinker. He was brother and son to George Washington, Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson. Lafayette solicited money for the freedom of America from French gentry, whose noggins would end up on the block during the French Revolution, including Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. When Lafayette returned from America after defeating Cornwallis in the swamps of South Carolina, thus, turning the tide of the American Revolution, the king and queen rushed to his home to welcome him. They held their own friend close and shared their new baby girl with him. Lafayette and his wife, Adrienne named their own daughter, Marie Antoinette Virginie du Motier, the first name is obvious and the second name for Virginia. This is one of so many examples that tied the French court to the work of Lafayette in America and to its founders….and yet…

The Marquis went to prison in Austria and almost lost his head had it not been for his devoted wife who came to live with him for the duration of his sentence. Adrienne, herself, was caught and imprisoned by the Terror in Paris and would have been beheaded had it not been for, none other than Elizabeth Monroe, a future First Lady of the United States and wife to James Monroe, the United States envoy to France at the time. Elizabeth intervened in an attempt to save her. The day prior to Madame La Fayette’s scheduled execution, Mrs. Monroe visited the imprisoned Marquise and loudly announced that she would not be returning the following day. Not wanting to endanger ties with the United States, France abruptly reversed its verdict and did not execute Adrienne. Everyone is figuratively “in bed” with everyone else. The intentions of the LaFayettes were honorable. They knew how the system worked because they, themselves were…of the blood. Without France, the America that was born would not be. The personal finances of LaFayette, his vast fortune was placed on the come line. He had more, never fear, but his example spurned other sto do the same…for better or worse.

The biography excites me and depresses me all at the same time. Suppression is a strange sister. If I chose to forget something vile, I also forget…the milk, the car keys, a coffee date, a birthday of a dear and valued friend. If my senses are heightened and I am at ramming speed, I am wound as tight as an alarm clock. Is it Fight or Flight…

I will share with you something I just read that is a summation of the last weeks. I like it, it is straight forward and clear…

An anguished question from a Trump supporter: ‘Why do liberals think Trump supporters are stupid?’ This is an easy…
THE SERIOUS ANSWER: Here’s what the majority of anti-Trump voters honestly feel about Trump supporters en masse:
That when you saw a man who had owned a fraudulent University, intent on scamming poor people, you thought “Fine.” (https://www.usatoday.com/…/trump-university…/502387002/)
That when you saw a man who had made it his business practice to stiff his creditors, you said, “Okay.” (https://www.thedailybeast.com/trump-hotel-paid-millions…)
That when you heard him proudly brag about his own history of sexual abuse, you said, “No problem.” (https://abcnews.go.com/…/list-trumps-accusers…/story…)
That when he made up stories about seeing Muslim-Americans in the thousands cheering the destruction of the World Trade Center, you said, “Not an issue.” (https://www.washingtonpost.com/…/donald-trumps…/)
That when you saw him brag that he could shoot a man on Fifth Avenue and you wouldn’t care, you exclaimed, “He sure knows me.” (https://www.usatoday.com/…/president-donald…/4073405002/)
That when you heard him relating a story of an elderly guest of his country club, an 80-year old man, who fell off a stage and hit his head, to Trump replied: “‘Oh my God, that’s disgusting,’ and I turned away. I couldn’t—you know, he was right in front of me, and I turned away. I didn’t want to touch him. He was bleeding all over the place. And I felt terrible, because it was a beautiful white marble floor, and now it had changed color. Became very red.” You said, “That’s cool!” (https://www.gq.com/story/donald-trump-howard-stern-story)
That when you saw him mock the disabled, you thought it was the funniest thing you ever saw. (https://www.nbcnews.com/…/donald-trump-criticized-after…)
That when you heard him brag that he doesn’t read books, you said, “Well, who has time?” (https://www.theatlantic.com/…/americas-first…/549794/)
That when the Central Park Five were compensated as innocent men convicted of a crime they didn’t commit, and he angrily said that they should still be in prison, you said, “That makes sense.” (https://www.usatoday.com/…/what-trump-has…/1501321001/)
That when you heard him tell his supporters to beat up protesters and that he would hire attorneys, you thought, “Yes!” (https://www.latimes.com/…/la-na-trump-campaign-protests…)
That when you heard him tell one rally to confiscate a man’s coat before throwing him out into the freezing cold, you said, “What a great guy!” (https://www.independent.co.uk/…/donald-trump-orders…)
That you have watched the parade of neo-Nazis and white supremacists with whom he curries favor, while refusing to condemn outright Nazis, and you have said, “Thumbs up!” (https://www.theatlantic.com/…/why-cant-trump…/567320/)
That you hear him unable to talk to foreign dignitaries without insulting their countries and demanding that they praise his electoral win, you said, “That’s the way I want my President to be.” (https://www.huffpost.com/…/trump-insult-foreign…)
That you have watched him remove expertise from all layers of government in favor of people who make money off of eliminating protections in the industries they’re supposed to be regulating and you have said, “What a genius!” (https://www.politico.com/…/138-trump-policy-changes…)
That you have heard him continue to profit from his businesses, in part by leveraging his position as President, to the point of overcharging the Secret Service for space in the properties he owns, and you have said, “That’s smart!” (https://www.usnews.com/…/how-is-donald-trump-profiting…)
That you have heard him say that it was difficult to help Puerto Rico because it was in the middle of water and you have said, “That makes sense.” (https://www.washingtonpost.com/…/the-very-big-ocean…/)
That you have seen him start fights with every country from Canada to New Zealand while praising Russia and quote, “falling in love” with the dictator of North Korea, and you have said, “That’s statesmanship!” (https://www.cnn.com/…/donald-trump-dictators…/index.html)
That Trump separated children from their families and put them in cages, managed to lose track of 1500 kids, has opened a tent city incarceration camp in the desert in Texas – he explains that they’re just “animals” – and you say, “Well, OK then.” (https://www.nbcnews.com/…/more-5-400-children-split…)
That you have witnessed all the thousand and one other manifestations of corruption and low moral character and outright animalistic rudeness and contempt for you, the working American voter, and you still show up grinning and wearing your MAGA hats and threatening to beat up anybody who says otherwise. (https://www.americanprogress.org/…/confronting-cost…/)

and in summa…a little something from Adam Kissinger...

What you don’t get, Trump supporters, is that our succumbing to frustration and shaking our heads, thinking of you as stupid, may very well be wrong and unhelpful, but it’s also…hear me…charitable. Because if you’re NOT stupid, we must turn to other explanations, and most of them are less flattering. There is no excuse for 2016 or 2025…none. I do not need to know what it is that you want. I do not need to listen to you. It would be like playing the harp for a buffalo and then asking him what he thought of the arpeggios. I have a copy of this document and carry it with me, in the purse I can not find half the time. I hand it to those who have to make excuses for themselves because I have nothing left to say….unless you would like me to wax on about Reagan but tickets are sold for that one and you must provide the soap box.

Let’s move on…What have these January weeks revealed? Each day is rich and full…It is colder than a witch’s whatever in Maine, perfect for writing, reading, fiddling, and cooking. The village gets quiet after the holidays. The small gatherings begin, which are near impossible to organize in spring and summer. Outcome the project just painted an oil of our neighbor’s house because they take such good care of our home when we are away. He saved a swath of the foreground for their two darling boys (8 and 11) to complete with a few tips from the artist. All three will sign the painting. Since the work is a surprise for their mother, Dave asked how the boys would alibi their visit to our house. The younger pipes up and says that his mom can be very gullible. “We’ll just tell her we are moving furniture for you.” Needless to say, Dave and I howled. We are the old couple across the street. We have graduated into needing the neighbor kids for help. Of course, their mother would believe them. I love this family. I loved the afternoon of hearing the three of them chatting over this very sweet and meaningful painting.

We went to a two sublime New Year’s Day parties. Close pals had come the night before and welcomed the New Year with Champagne 95’s and various bites of this and that. The next day, I was ready for a nap after breakfast and thought I might skip the heady New Year’s Day that takes place between Mountain and Megunticook Street. Dave is the party baby, this side unknown to most of you, so when noon rolled around on a Tupperware sky kind of day, we ventured out. I will leave names out but the story goes like this…

A lovely, long-time, long-lived big Bulgarian and French family lives at the foot of Mt Beatty in the most divine, quintessential Maine farmhouse. They are famous in the ‘hood for their many contributions to the well-being of the community, great friends of friends but not known to us till New Year’s Day 2025…more is the pity! What a lark! The house was packed with all ages but mostly 50 to 150. The dining table was groaning and the cider was on the stove. I noticed some beautiful old family photos on the kitchen wall. Several were wedding photos of very handsome Bulgarian great-grands in the most divine wedding garb and next to it, a family of 7, getting off of a TWA prop plane, dressed in the fashion of the 40’s. “Who are these people?” seez I. The answer came from one of the engaging sisters or daughters-in-law. (Truly, I needed a storyboard.) “This is the day my mother-in-law and her family emigrated from Paris to the US…in 1946.” (to the United States, the founders and implementers of the Marshall Plan, NATO and the United Nations…just a PS) What, what, what…I had to know more. The sum in short is that the eldest daughter, a lovely blonde of 22 or 23 was the matriarch of this tribe, who were raised in this rambling Victorian. She had been a student at the Sorbonne when Hitler et al marched into Paris in 1940. She had lived and survived the occupation. Her father’s business was burnt to the ground. Her family home was occupied and the family turned into the street. The family retreated to Brittany while our heroine stayed in Paris with her father. The young and lovely blonde girl in the photo, who lived in Paris through the war, lived much of her long life a ten-minute walk from my home. I have missed knowing her by a decade. How close and how far…Is it an unusual story? Now, it is.

As the Baby Boomers close in for the last decades of our lives, we will be the last to remember, personally, WWII veterans, our uncles and fathers, and survivors of devastation and chaos. Two parents in my radius of teaching sported numbers on their forearms. I am sure there were more. The neighbor family of my childhood had a grandmother, a native of Frankfurt, who managed to escape and come to New York. When my mother was in the depths of postpartum, and a recent miscarriage, this dear woman would bring cheese blintzes for us on Fridays. She told my mother that she knew we fasted on Friday (in the meatless days before 1962) and we might like these. Did this woman know she was saving my mother? I do wonder. A woman who survived Auschwitz lived to offer my lonely, motherless mother, who was quickly becoming the prototype for, A Diary of a Mad Housewife,” a kindness she never forgot. Both of these women found each other in a low point in their lives, Happy-ish in that 50’s way, alone, feeling irrelevant, in recovery from a world in flames, unnoticed….they listened to each other.

I am not comparing my experience to my mother’s but…just in terms of the timing, I wish I could have heard the story, first hand, of a young student, a refugee, a mother of five, and a neighbor. I just missed her….I just missed visiting with her.

We wandered off to the next party which was all the way across the street. This New Year’s Day party is legion…given by the most generous couple. Polish Kielbasa from New York, sauerkraut from Morse’s, fillet, a slab of gorgeous fish, salads, sweets, and the most fabulous eggnog, spread before a cast of thousands. This is Fezziwig’s party from Dicken’s Christmas Carol, complete with a roaring fire and every possible Christmas cheer available. This couple know everyone in Camden. A trip to the market for them must feel like the Rose Parade. They are consummate entertainers, fabulous cooks, gracious hosts…who would miss this shindig? We met up with various pals and got to chat. Center stage was a dear friend, who hasn’t had the best year of health but never misses a beat. With his lovely wife by his side, he is a most beloved storyteller. (On tap for the first day of the year, was a story about Sister Corita, who was pals with our friend. She is/was the author of many books, a talented art teacher, a political activist, and an anti-war zealot during Viet Nam. I took an art class from her one summer and came home with lots of political banter resulting in my father’s question…”Are you taking an art class?”) Corita was a fireball in the center of a flaming period and rallied with our friend. She called him one day and asked him to show a fellow sympathizer around New York as it would be his first visit. The visitor was another firebrand, poet and author, the anti-war activist, Daniel Berrigan. These names were household to any activist of the day. Do read there profiles and obits for a refresher. They were heroes. Our friend, along with these two and many more did time for their beliefs, in the land of the free. They sang Peter Seeger to the rooftops and moved mountains for the disenfranchised along with their colleague and friend, Dorothy Day. You know, Dorothy Day, who was the nemesis of Cardinals Spellman and Mac ntyre, two men who never got her message…She is a saint in the Anglican lexicon….

This was the chatter by the fire…time gone by as times to be lived again.

We begin again…another year in this sublime village, a spot on the Eastern Seaboard. Notice that photos have little to do with the writing…just winter and us and stuff…and stories.

I leave you with this lovely poem, sent my a precious friend…Who are we without our friends and neighbors?

The Peace of Wild Things

-Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

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