Nada

If writers write, and I am a writer, then why am I not writing? Right?

I call myself a journalist, but my journal has been lonely this past week. I’m only writing this so that I don’t go three full days without writing anything pithy here.

Oh, I’ve written stuff — on my laptop — yes, the streak is doing fine, this is Day 1,516, aren’t I something? But writing in my journal, in my handwriting, Nyuh-uh. When I pick up the pen and hold it over the blank page, nothing.

“Wait a minute,” you might say. “Aren’t you writing this little bit about not writing anything?”

It’s true. I’m a journalist writing a journal entry about nothing.

Jerry Seinfeld’s got nothing on me.

Another change of seasons

It’s the green and gold season here at Three Willows at Serenity Valley. The photo doesn’t really do justice to the cascade of yellow-gold leaves rippling through the willow trees, providing a natural approximation of Packers colors here, not far from the waters of Green Bay.

Sunday morning was the fall equinox in this neck of the woods, and I completely forgot. Usually I try to wax poetic about the changing of the seasons, but my mind was on other things apparently. For the next six months we’ll have more dark than light in any given day as we approach and then pass the shortest day of the year, the first day of winter in December. I’ve always thought it comforting that although winter is bitter cold more often than not, at least the days are getting longer as we approach the promised first day of spring.

The growing darkness is a marvelous metaphor for the election season in general. I’ll stop there — I have already broken my pledge to avoid writing about politics too many times.

On the subject of green and gold, we Packers fans have growing optimism as our new backup quarterback, Malik Willis, has done a wonderful job stepping up to the plate after starter Jordan Love tweaked his knee on the third-to-last play of the season opener. No doubt some folks are researching Super Bowl tickets after our boys’ 2-1 start, and they do look mighty fine.

On the subject of stepping up to the plate, the Milwaukee Brewers surprised us all by winning their division this year, which was advertised as one of those “rebuilding years” you hear about. Our hearts seem destined to be broken at some point, of course: The Brewers have never won the World Series, and in the one Series they did reach, they lost games six and seven after having a 3 games to 2 lead in 1982. I haven’t paid much attention this year, but it seems they’re a very good team.

I do enjoy autumn, which is not too hot and not unbearably cold most years. And it’s the green and gold season, after all.

Something special about 6 o’clock

I went to see Reagan Friday evening with my new good friend, and it was a lovely trip down memory lane. As I posted on Facebook, “I was afraid they would never make a movie like Reagan. Highly recommended! Dennis Quaid and Penelope Ann Miller (as Ronald and Nancy Reagan) are wonderful.”

One of my good Facebook friends, the one with an inexplicable faith in the party that left Ronnie in his younger days, replied, “If this country was doomed to elect an actor as President, I would have wished it was Marty Sheen,” a reference to the actor who played the mythical Democrat president on The West Wing.

“They’re all actors,” I replied.

“Well, if you’re going to be cynical = we all are,” she said.

To which I could only think to reply with the Bard’s immortal observation, “All the world’s a stage And all the men and women merely players.”

The movie is one of those films that exposes how far out of touch is the average film critic. The latest rottentomatoes.com ratings show that Reagan has a mere 17% of positive reviews from the hoity toity with an audience rating of 98%. That is, I believe, the biggest gap in the website’s history. We damn deplorables have no idea what’s art and what’s not.

Back in the 1980s I wrote a couplet that I’ve never been able to extend into a proper song or poem:

I hear someone said once the world is a stage.

From what I can see, it’s a play about rage.

Ronald Reagan is one of those political figures who inspires a passionate response in both directions. I’ve heard Donald Trump compared to Reagan, but that’s more about the response — Trump has very little of Reagan’s charm or sense of humor. On the other side of the aisle are people like Bill and Hillary Clinton, for example.

Some people say that when you take a strong stand, you will get a strong response, and if you don’t make some people mad, you’re not trying hard enough. That’s probably true, but the level of rage out there is dismaying, and it’s even deeper than it was in the 1980s or ’90s.

There are folks whose job seems to be stoking the rage, which I find mystifying except for the fact that angry and fearful people are more easily manipulated. I wish people on both sides of the current conflagration could step back and think, “Why am I so afraid and angry about the idea that Donald Trump and/or Kamala Harris will be the next U.S. president? Who benefits from my fear and anger, and why do they want me to feel that?”

I honestly don’t know the answer to those questions, but I do think the world could use more of the attitude reflected in the friendship between Reagan the Cold Warrior and liberal House Speaker Tip O’Neill, as depicted in the movie. The film puts the words in Reagan’s mouth, but DuckDuckGo leads me to articles that quote O’Neill as saying about the D.C. culture, “Before 6 o’clock, it’s all politics, but after 6 o’clock, and on weekends, we’re friends.”

To paraphrase the old saw about quitting time, I think we need to remember that it’s always after 6 o’clock somewhere.