Wednesday, 9 November 2016
I woke up on Wednesday and tears came immediately. I don’t mean namby pamby poor me tears. I mean gut wrenching tears about the potential loss of so much I hold dear, especially marriage equality across the land, respect for all ethnicities, and, I must selfishly admit, my own working poor need for Medicare and Social Security to not be cut. I feared for people I love, and for people of all groups that D.T. verbally denigrated and who I knew would be afraid today. And a feminist for the past 50 years and as a former counselor for the Seattle rape crisis center, way back in my 20s, the very thought of D.T. completely sickens me.
Work might be in the only cure for this misery. It was mighty hard to get going. And we had sort of a social obligation for the evening, and I could not imagine how I was going to “people”.
I could still take an interest in plants. If I were on the run, in the Hunger Games or the apocalypse, I’d still look at plants.
I did not want to be far from home, so we trimmed up the garden beds down at the port.
As we were weeding, a friend came by who had seen a post by me on Facebook and had asked where we would be working today. I am normally not a huggy person. Today there was much hugging. While I am sworn to secrecy about it, this friend did something so generous that I was gobsmacked. This great human kindness came at a time of such despair that it couldn’t have been more helpful in every way.
I peeked into the bookstore to see if Karla was there. I just wanted to lay eyes on her. She was not (but I did have two cathartic talks with her later in the week).
Allan and I went on to tidy up the boatyard garden and the Ilwaco planters. While I was there, a friend who had a VIP job here on the peninsula came by looking for me. We talked and talked and he wept, as well.
I deducted all the talking time from my work time today…at least an hour!
We are still leaving some plants standing at the boatyard. I don’t like to cut back everything hard in the fall.
Gardening helped, and I thought of the quotation “All my hurts, my garden spade can heal.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson). I am keenly aware that being able to find healing in the garden is a privilege. Not everyone has a garden, not everyone can afford one, not everyone has the opportunity to even work around a garden. People getting deported might lose their gardens, as might married gay couples who have to move from a state that no longer recognizes their marriage.
As we worked on the planters, another local VIP came up and we had another long simpatico talk about the election.
The work board got three things crossed off (port, boatyard, planters) and is about as blurry as I felt.
I read news for an hour and then we managed to roust ourselves out for a Salty Talk at Salt Pub. The speakers were our next door neighbours, Jared and Jessika from Starvation Alley Farms.
Attending the event, despite my desire to cocoon at home in sorrow, proved to be a wise choice. We arrived early. Everyone we personally knew there was in the same mood as I about the election. It helped. I realized that we were all going to be more bonded from this day forward.
It also did not hurt that the pub and hotel owner bought me a second drink.
As we left, after a time of comfort, we were charmed that the son of Salt was ensconced at the front desk.
During more news reading at home (I usually read my news rather than watch it), I read about hate crimes already burgeoning committed by people who seemed to feel empowered to act out because of the election. And I learned that Hillary had won the popular vote. That was comforting in what felt like a useless way. A night of four hours of sleep followed.
1995 (age 71):
Nov 9: 1:00-4:00 I lit off the burning barrel and the guy next door parked his truck about a foot away. Del Lord suggested he move it. I found huge pieces of wood in my new wood. Del said he was curious so he brought over his wedge and proceeded to chop the big pieces for about an hour. Mary came over and helped pick up. It’s nice to have neighbors like that.
1998 (age 74):
Nov 9: 10:30-4:00 Cool-no rain (2 more pails of apples)
I worked planting the Park Seed perennials. A crew was digging ditch across the road and I thought they might do it on my side. (I thought they were working on water lines.) So I dug up some asters to reveal the pipe. Then I asked and found out they were working on the tv cable. (They cut it again.) I used my rock rake in front of Tam area. Then at 4:00 I got the recycle stuff together. Then I peeled apples until 8:30 for apple sauce. Then I had dinner and quit for the day.