Evidence right in front of us

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From the archives

When Summer was a puppy and stairs were a strange and mysterious mystery, I would hook her up to a leash and take her out front to do her doggie business rather than force her to negotiate the 10 steps down from the deck to our fenced-in backyard.

Now closer to her fourth birthday than her third, she has long ago grown accustomed to stairs, but after numerous bouts of hesitation at the patio door, I finally realized that first thing in the morning, she prefers to harken back to her puppyhood and go out front.

Since I am still at least 30 pounds heavier than I would consider my ideal weight, in recent months I have capitulated to my goofy dog’s preference and taken her on a 10- to 15-minute walk up and down the road and/or through the big field next to the house. (Summer, Dejah and I live on a little more than three acres of land not far from the beautiful shores of Green Bay — the body of water where the city gets its name.)

Saturday morning, after my usual morning surf through comic strips, familiar blogs and word games, I dabbled briefly on social media and even stuck my toe into the debate du jour involving heads of state. That’s a little unusual given that I ultimately view our present crisis as the state versus the individual, rather than any state-versus-state or party-versus-party.

Be that as it may, people took sides and expressed their anger and dismay at whichever head of state they viewed as being mainly at fault. At that point Summer expressed her dismay that we had not gone for our walk yet, so I pocketed the phone and grabbed the leash.

It was a cold but beautiful sunny morning. Sunny days help my depth perception — you may recall the story of when I first got glasses, the doctor added a prism that forced my two eyes to work better together — and so I stopped a time or two just to enjoy the sights of clouds racing across the sky, our three willow trees and the house standing behind them, and the bay peeking through the woods. (For three seasons, you can’t see the water from here because of the greenery.)

Summer paused mid-walk and sat down in the field, and I stood next to her and thanked God for a life that has lasted 72 years (as of later this month) and brought me to this beautiful corner of the universe. Eventually I coaxed her to continue and we headed back to the house.

I pulled out my phone again and considered leaping back into the fray, but I was pulled up short by a meme a friend had posted. It was a photo of a sunny woods with a river running through it, and these words:

“If you want evidence that the world is a terrible place, watch the news and surf the web. But if you want to remember how incredible this planet is, go out into nature. Unlike social media and the news, nature has no incentive to keep us agitated, angry and anxious.”

I reposted the meme and got on with my day, making a point to look out my window and up at the sky as often as possible.

It was a good day.

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March 2, 2025 — This post is also collected in my book See the World! Ask your favorite bookseller to order ISBN number 978-0-9910107-1-4

How can I not be frightened? Let me explain.

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I see They are at it again. I take a quick peek at social media, and an old friend is shouting from afar, to anyone who will listen, “How can you see what They are doing and not be frightened?” My answer is that They are doing Their best to scare us.

Whoever They are, it’s a given that They are up to no good. We have known each other for a long time and made fond long-ago memories together, and now here They are to destroy everything that made those memories possible. They are insidious in every way, and how could we not be frightened?

My question is: Why do They want us to be scared of each other? Who benefits when we are at each other’s throats and frightened to risk living in peace and love with one another? Can we stop long enough to see through this induced hatred and fear and reach out to understand each other?

Rage and fear take a lot of energy, and if we give it a rest, we might find peace in our hearts. Peace is not an absence; it is a fullness. Peace is the default. When we are not quarreling and throwing epithets and stones and bullets at each other, we are buying and selling, and talking and sharing, and playing and working together. Only when the agitators and activists hurl their insults and their anger into the center of things, only then is the peace disturbed. The raging ones have been at it for so long that we forget peace is the default, and we forget that we have more in common than differences. They — whoever They are, and They come at us from all sides — exploit our differences to drive a wedge.

In the fullness of peace is a calm, gentle, patient, kind reality. If there is true fear anywhere, it is the fear in the hearts of these agitators that they might lose control of their narratives and we will stop being afraid of each other.

“How can I not be frightened?” Oh, sometimes I am frightened, because I can see the fear that grows when these manufacturers of fear relentlessly bang the drum that demands we be terrified of The Other. You know the word for those who want us afraid, don’t you? Terrorist. I am wary of those who worship at this altar of Fear and Rage and Anger, but if I yield to the impulse to be terrified, then the terrorists have won and they will rule the day.

No, my choice every morning and, as much as I can manage, every moment, is to love and live in peace with everyone I meet. When we find ourselves at the precipice and about to jump into the pit of fear and rage, let us talk each other down from the ledge and seek understanding in a spirit of love. Let us love and laugh and reason together until the fear mongers give up in frustration.

Binging the magic

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The stream giveth, and the stream taketh away. I recently discovered the TV show Nashville, which had its first run from 2012 to 2018, just in time to also discover that it was leaving Netflix after Monday, Sept. 14.

I finished Season 4 on Sunday night, and I had run out of time to binge Seasons 5 and 6 in their entirety, so I looked at the IMDb ratings and found the top-rated episodes from the final two seasons. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that most of my Monday was devoted to catching eight or nine 42-minute stories including, of course, the series finale.

I am clearly a sucker for stories about writing songs and trying to make a life making music. They built a pile of endearing and not-so-endearing characters and tossed them in a room together. Even though I’ve now seen the best of those last two seasons, I expect I’ll revisit those seasons and all of Nashville when the stream decides to give it back, someday.

Watching all that songwriting magic gave me the itch to pick up my own guitars and see what comes out. But first I need to turn off the television and get some sleep.