7 Political, DST, Literary, Community, and Spamming Takes

Is it really Friday? Wow. I didn’t think this day would ever come. Don’t be too happy, though, because this weekend the clocks get moved, if you live in an insane country like I do.

One

I’ve been watching that clip of Elizabeth Warren, on the edge of tears, telling all the “women and little girls” that we just have to wait four more years. It’ll be hard, but we’ll get there. Not sure what it is about the spectacle that sets my teeth on edge. Maybe it’s that it feels more than necessarily infantilizing. I have little girls, and they are not so fragile that they are collapsed, gently sobbing into their coronavirus masks, emotionally devastated because yet another very flawed candidate of either sex sensibly dropped out of the race. They can actually deal. They’re fine. As some horrible person pointed out online, if they need a strong female role model, there’s always Nancy Pelosi. I mean, who are these people who tell their little children to admire or even notice politicians of any kind?

Two

Just to be equal opportunity negative, my elder son observed at luncheon yesterday that Mr. Trump isn’t a feminine man, obviously, but isn’t exactly masculine either. Not in the way he would prefer. The conversation immediately devolved into the question of what is a good size for hands and feet related to the height of a person, I’m not kidding. Felt like twitter had come to my own dinner table. Still, felt a warm glow of pride at his acute observation.

Three

What I wanted to say, though, was, Ms. Warren should have campaigned on the eradication of Daylight Savings Time. Why doesn’t anyone do this? I know all the issues of the day are important, but my goodness, if there was one thing that could bring a country together, it would be moving the clock forward one hour this weekend and then never moving it back again.

Four

I was going through my spam folder this week, trying to avoid reality, and came across this really lovely little note. Thought you all would enjoy it. I have not altered it even one tiny iota except to remove the link and paragraph spacings, of which there were many. It is here, preserved in its perfection, for you:

Dear: ,
I am sorry to encroach into your privacy in this manner, I found you listed in the Trade Center Chambers of Commerce directory here in Iraq, I find it pleasurable to offer you my partnership in business.I
only pray at this time that your address is still valid. I want to solicit your attention to receive the two trunks on my behalf. I am Capt David Keesler, an officer in the US Army, and also a West Point Graduate presently serving in the Military keeping force in Baghdad, Iraq. I am on the move to Afghanistan from Iraq as the last batch just left, and I really need your help in assisting me with the safe keeping of two military trunk boxes which has just arrived the Netherland from the Iraq. I believe you can be trusted and handle it? Kindly view this news blog below for some info____________________I will explain further when I get a response from you. Nevertheless,
if you are interested reconfirm the following to me as follows.
(a) Your full Names
(b) Your physical mailing address
(c) Your direct telephone numbers
(d) Your occupation
Please ensure to reply via my private e-mail
God bless you and thanks for cooperation in advance.
Best Regards,
______________

Five

“Your direct telephone numbers,” Ha Ha Ha. Incidentally, I didn’t click on the link provided, and also, I always think anything that begins with “I am sorry” should stop right there and not bother. If you were really worried about “encroaching on my privacy” you wouldn’t do it, would you, whoever you are in “the Iraq” etc.

The thing I find most pleasurable in modern life is not being scammed, but I do appreciate the attempt.

Six

My little girls–the same ones not fainting over Ms. Warren–and I are still toiling through all the Little House books. We’re stuck in the middle of These Happy Golden Years, and I suppose they’re going to insist on persisting (get it?) to the bitter end. On the whole, though, I’m pretty tired out. The writing in these last few ones has devolved into lists of dressmaking and walking back and forth to town and teaching school. It’s too much the litany of my own life (minus the walking and sewing), the boring repetition of everything I did today and this week and this month. The narrative arch is flagging, is what I’m saying—though the girls haven’t noticed. They shriek every time Almanzo appears on the page. It’s very “interactive” and also loud. I am fairly desperate to finish so we can get to the Anne books which are just so much better written.

It occurred to me, though, that in order for nostalgia to work as a literary device, it does require a goodly amount of repetition, which often defeats the point, I think. I’m not sure about this. But Wilder has the repetition part down, and, I would say after a year of reading these out loud until my voice hurts, the nostalgia too. But it never breaks out and ascends to the realm of true art (not even sure what I would put in that category). Am I committing heresy here? Will I be allowed to vote in the next election?

Seven

This article is pretty good. It is true that community doesn’t just happen, it has to be built through the pains and agonies of sacrifice and love. But it is also found—I think that’s one of the peculiar gifts of the internet, and maybe the difference between Laura Ingalls Wilder and Anne Shirley. Anne had the gift of friendship, she was always discovering kindred spirits, the kind of friend that helps you to break out of the drudgery and futility of work to see some transcendent and astonishing beauty. If I were trying to describe what people are really looking for in “church community” I would go to Anne every time. Which, I think, is sort of interesting, since Laura, whenever she mentions church, can’t help but say—again—how much she disliked the pastor and his preaching. Her community is built, and then is easily destroyed (boy are my girls going to be sad in the next book) because it is constructed on human striving and the hope of temporal prosperity. But the kind of community that you find, as a gift, waiting there, given by a loving and provident God, well, that’s even available on the internet. And it can’t be destroyed because God was the one who made it.

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