October 30, 2020

October 30, 2020 

Fucking Beethoven. 

Music can be a gut punch. A swell of emotion that shatters you and leaves you bawling uncontrollably as you try to make sense of the feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long. My glasses filthy from my tears of hope, fear, joy, despair... 

One moment, in a restaurant - celebrating - of all things Oktoberfest - on the night before Halloween - the full moon - the blue moon - and that last weekend before the election. Our friends two tables back, both acknowledged and missed as we recounted all the friends we haven’t seen or touched in so long. 

Then, getting into the car and there was the Ninth. The 4th Movement. The Ode to Joy. Only this was the alternate version, the Ode to “Freedom” - the version that swaps out “freude ” for “freiheit” the version conceived for the fall of the Berlin Wall and German reunification. The true end of the war. A point almost equidistant from the fall of Nazism and now. 

I sang and Lisa drove, I sang until I started weeping. Beethoven. Fucking Beethoven. The Ninth - the CD we bought before we had a CD player because this was the song we wanted to first hear in its digital perfection. The hope for a future full of progress - of pristine music if nothing else (jet packs anyone?). I wept. I wept until I was empty. I miss so many people, living and dead. 

I still want to unlock and cling to this joy, this optimism for the future - but I’ll suck it back up for now. Dry the tears and clean my glasses. Pour a glass and wait. 

Freude

October 29, 2020

October 29, 2020 

5 days to the election. Within a week it seems that things may finally change - but honesty we know that’s unlikely. Election day will only mark the beginning of the next round of conflict that will likely bleed into January if not later. 

I voted already. This year filled with the angst of making sure my vote would count. Distrust of the mail, a desire to vote in person, but Covid, but lines, but the fear of armed militias roaming the streets. I opted for a drop box - deciding on one by the Blue Line, where there is a manned police substation - presumably a deterrent to tampering, arson, or bombs. Still, I tracked my ballot like an Amazon package, anxiously checking the website until my ballot showed up and accepted at the registrar. 

I can’t remember an election more fraught - though 4 years ago I also opted for a drop box. This year though - conversations of should we own firearms? how much and what should we stock up on? do we need to keep some plywood at hand to board up windows? 

At night we’ve been catching up watching the Mandalorian - a fun romp, but a story that advances each episode with new enemies to kill, or surviving attempts to be killed - is it any wonder that that has become our go-to for conflict resolution? Friday a new episode of The Great British Bake Off drops, and I look forward to watching a competition in which everyone is sad when someone’s batter doesn’t properly rise. I need more models like this, where everyone aspires to be good and no one ever says, “I didn’t come here to make friends.” 

Most of the things we worry about never come to pass - I hope this remains true.