Friday, March 8, 2024

California Dreamin'...

 

Thinking of my beloved Golden State today and of my many friends there who I don’t see enough. And of Barbara Lee and Katie Porter who lost out to a well-funded windbag this week.(And, yes, even our windbags are usually better than their…athletic supporters, but, damn). Not exactly the best display of free and fair elections I could envision(and yet, the US has all these notes for other countries…sometimes I think we can save it, you know.  Till we can convince Texas and Florida they don’t have fiefdoms, at least.)

 On a more personal note, my friend’s husband booked the date for a spring memorial, and, just like a lot of things that my friends do that aren’t online, I won’t be there. Sometimes I’m not sure why it was so important that I cheated death(Another thing that happened in California) to be my friends’ Zoom friend.  Even if my sense of humor kind of means I am terrible at memorials that aren’t wakes. (I know that, anyone inclined to wouldn’t need to make me feel better about it…)

I’ve gotten to the point where I can say the right thing some of the time; for a person with an unfinished life, well, I miss a lot of people by now.  I’m too on the sidelines, so far, to have some major “Big Chill” moment, but I’m not sure, even if I felt like having a full-on Crisis…I’m not sure I’d get to see it through.  I quit one of my committees last month, after a great deal of agonizing, and I’m not sure my supervisor even believed me.

I suppose if my life felt…finished, it would mean that I should be thinking of wrapping it up or something. I hate to say there are occasional times like that, especially since, well, it’s kind of all the same, and I don’t mean an endless round of readings and cocktail parties, or candidates fiending for my endorsement.
It’s the same like “Gee. This adolescence is taking an unbelievably long time.”

Except this time, I don’t get to graduate.

All my friend wanted was to keep doing what she was doing, raise her kid, love her husband.

She’s not here.  I am.

I’d say “Make it make sense,” but I’m afraid I would hate the answer.

 

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