Waiting, Berkeley, CA.
This was a moment during which the lil’ monkey and I were waiting for the BART train into the city to go see a holiday dance show. For minutes on end we watched people descend the escalator: first shoes, then legs, then torso, then whole person. Could have stayed like that for hours, except the weekend trains run on a 20-minute cycle.
An account of our little journey is currently in production. Unfortunately, it was bumped out of the queue mid-week, due to the fact that my limited discretionary hours were hogged up by my sitting on the couch doing deep breathing exercises, working yet again through the rage/despair/cynicism/fatigue cycles. Because my Prez-elect, he whom I really wanted to think the best of, just gave both a microphone and a position of symbolic prominence to someone who helped see to it that the daughter I took to the holiday dance show last weekend would live in a family that, as of November 5th, had considerably less legal and financial security than it had November 3rd. Based on: naked bigotry. Or rather bigotry in sheep’s clothing. Warren either speaks for, or represents millions more like him.
All kinds of pundits have noted that such a move was tactical, predictable. A drop in the copious bucket of good this man and his administration will bring. Yeah, whatever. I long ago misplaced the ability not to take all this personally. Long ago lost the thickness my skin once had. I can pinpoint the moment, too: it was the September dawn, bathed in a hospital’s fluorescent light, when my daughter drew her first breath, a little over four years ago.
Read moreWeekend bonus shot, 12.20.08