Thoughts along the way...

Tag: hope

It’s a small step, but if everyone takes it…

Back in 2013 I joined a website then called “twitter.” I was not an early adopter (I rarely am) but I new I would be traveling and many of the folks with whom I wanted to be in touch were almost exclusively (anti)social-media-only communicators.

Folks I knew had fancy-schmancy pocket computers from Apple and Samsung that had built-in cellular telephone capabilities, but never used them as phones. Their mode was all-text, all-the time. Preferably on one of the two major (anti)social media sites: Facething or the Twits.

Some time ago I left the former, as it was simply, too much. I was never too much of a user of the latter site, for which I kept my account alive primarily to be able to access posts of others – some can only be seen from within that particular sphere. In the intervening years the site was purchased by a very wealthy megalomaniac and transformed into the service of another, far less wealthy megalomaniac, arguably playing a role in getting the latter re-elected to the highest office in the land.

My account counts. Not much, but it’s a tick on the grand tally of accounts that allows the owner to say: “I’ve got so many accounts…”

So many minus one now, Bub. The flood of lies, disinformation, and misinformation that are the “X” content stream are not something I can in good conscience be a part of – even a passive one. So I am leaving, deactivating my account, and turning my back. I shall no longer be counted as one of the millions that make the site whatever the hell it has become.

It’s a small step, but if every like-minded person (and there are tens of millions of us out there, based on the Nov. 5 tallies) took the same small step, the collective leap would be impressive.

Meanwhile, it’s been a rough week. There is still a giant media channel to which I remain a member, and it is through them I can offer this needed distraction:

And if you like that, there’s more!

And for those looking for wallpaper, you can catch the boats in Portsmouth harbor here:

Peace – Eric

Despair is easy.

I’ve been quiet lately, as there has been plenty of noise this past several years of an election season. Today we have a pretty good idea of the results, and the landscape to follow, and, naturally, I have a few cents to offer.

You know the old saw: if it was easy, everyone would be doing it. Well, despair is easy, and after the election might feel quite natural. And as we go through this day, the next few weeks, and even years, that old saw will be proven right.

It is also easy to feel betrayed, swindled, let down, and any number of negative thoughts about current events and that, too, is natural.

What is not easy is hope. If the last year, or four, or decade(s) even, have been difficult, let me ask you this: was there still hope yesterday?

I went to bed Tuesday night clueless. Didn’t open the news sites, turn on the radio, watch TV – in fact, I fell asleep to Monty Python’s Flying Circus season 1 episode 8, Full Frontal Nudity. That’s the episode with the dead parrot sketch.

Wednesday morning, I woke up hopeful. Of course, those immediate hopes were dashed to the rocks quickly by the mellifluous tones from NPR’s voices. Perhaps I thought holding off, ripping the Band-Aid® as it were, would be better than 8 years ago. I’m not sure, but I think it was. I got a good night’s sleep, which meant that, as soon as my hopes were dashed, they started stirring again in my rested soul.

According to early results from our Secretary of State’s office, there were 3,077,779 registered voters in my state for the election, and as of Wednesday,  2,137,613 returned ballots. That’s a 69.4% turnout for the state. Not bad – not historically great, but not bad. That might go up a bit with postmarked ballots.

But locally? My own County has 62,063 voters and as of yesterday returned 49,970 ballots. That’s an 80.5% rate of participation (so far).

We did our job locally.

Hope requires something in which to grow, and I shall start there. I feel lucky to be where we live, in a community that, generally, steps up. The rest of the nation is a bitter pill to swallow, but we live here, and we have proven we can – at least – take care of our own. It might not be much, but it is something.

From here in my town, I know my state rep – the outgoing one, who will be our new state AG, and our incoming one, a friend since our kids were together in Kindergarten. I know our state Senator. Even on our city council, I know folks. We take care of ourselves locally, and if that’s all we can do, then at least we are doing what we can.

Which gives me hope.

Hope is hard, but it’s still better than the easy option.

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