I am depressed today for no particular reason. Maybe I just miss being able to get Pen’s attention. For over fifty years I have been able to make her laugh, make her think, make her indulge in things we shouldn’t. But lately she is all consumed with the new construction of our five tiny-ish houses and one big playhouse. I forgot how deeply focussed she can become.
Of course the other four of us gladly let her do all the thinking. None of us have ever built a house before. None of us have dealt with architects or contractors, or subcontractors. Which is a good thing. My tendency when the framer asks me if I want the windows inset from the inside or outside is to say “Whatever is easiest.” I have been banned from the job site.
But Pen never takes a break. I can’t get her drunk. I tried to set a plate of brownies in front of her just so I could watch a playful twinkle in her eye. She smiled. She said thank you. Then she went back through the portal to her future world.
ML, Ryan, and Harriet also seem a little low key. It is hard for all of us to share this semi functional ranch house, especially during the hottest summer in history—a fact every news outlet screams at us on a daily basis. Although most of us have known each other for years, none of us have ever succeeded at a life long relationship. And this arrangement is framed as a life long commitment.
I think I’m going to stop writing now because I am more depressed than ever.
And then there’s Hurricane Hillary coming our way. If I’m not careful I’m gonna start thinking about Trump.
Updated: Aug 19, 2023
I read an interesting article today in the NYT about environmentalists opposing construction of a turbine manufacturing plant and system control center on a relatively remote island off the coast of main. The wind farm it would create and manage would be miles off shore and could potentially generate all of the electric needs of the state. Yes it would disturb a breeding ground for eagles. Yes it would limit the recreation possibilities of the island. The island would no longer be a peaceful sanctuary. It would be a manufacturing hub.
It is easy to dismiss this as a not-in-my-backyard issue. Which I'm sure a lot of it is. But to me it is more than that. It explains why these kind of projects get relegated and finally approved when hidden in the low rent communities. Apparently poor people don't live in pretty enough places to save, don't hire enough lawyers to voice their disapproval, and don't have a quality of life worth protecting. So environmentalist who are trying to stop this wind farm in Maine are not only hypocritical about their desire to halt climate change, they are also classists.
The truth is that it is free to rail against the harmful effects of fossil fuel, but surely everyone knows it's gonna cost something to replace it. My new life is now in Arizona where the state offers mining operations more rights than its citizens. Mountains are leveled. Land is scarred. Air and water is polluted. I see my job as a concerned citizen not to stop mining (society always will claim it needs whatever is being mined), but rather to fight to mitigate environmental impacts. No community should have to jeopardize its safety or health for the greater good. Even communities that don't attract tourists.
But the truth is, in my experience, that no community (no matter how beautiful) has ever changed what society wants. A steam roller doesn't stop for a pebble. But a community can influence how society gets it. We can slow down the steam roller. We can steer it away from a habitat. We can insist it not belch diesel, or excrete toxins.
But if it is beauty that is sacrificed, and if that beauty is enjoyed by a rarified few, then maybe we need to reassess what we think is beautiful. Which would you rather see: a fracking operation that rapes the land or a wind farm that heals the land.
Updated: Aug 19, 2023
Lately I have had quite a few lessons about pretending. I don't think you can be a lesbian in her seventies and not know what it feels like to pretend. I have never gone as far as pretending I was married to a man, but when a gay man (a wonderful friend) brought me flowers to the office for my birthday many years ago, I never corrected the assumptions that were made. And to be honest, I didn't feel ashamed (at least not at first) because it felt so damn good not to be guarded about my private life. To feel relaxed, just for a moment.
A while back when President Biden was addressing book banning, history rewriting, and censorship, he pointed out that darkness can hide much, but eliminates little. That really struck a chord with me. It is so true of the gay experience. From the beginning of time we have hidden in the shadows. We have pretended. But we have always existed. And will continue to exist.
So I'm not sure what the book banners, the history rewriters, the censors are hoping for. At best they'll make it dark for a few moments. Writing history lessons with the notion that slavery benefitted the slaves by teaching them new skills will sooth only the least curious mind. Pretending that gayness can be prevented with silence is choosing ignorance.
Ryan and ML and I had a conversation about this at lunch today and it did not go well. Ryan still has so many open wounds from the 80s that his voice becomes halting and his eyes fill with tears. ML is the opposite. "All this bullshit you read about is just the latest rouse the media has of making money."
Neither of them are wrong.
