Journalists are writing many articles about the coming presidential election, just a few weeks away. For many weeks, The New York Times writers have captured perceptions about the two presidential candidates. Journalists think of metaphors to use that help readers advance their thinking about the subject of voting for the president. This type of writing, objective writing, is not supposed to reveal which way the journalist would vote. Jim Rutenberg (presumably a journalist) filed one such nonpartisan article in The New York Timeson August 31, 2012 from Tampa, Florida, the Republican National Convention in Tampa having closed the night of August 30th. His article had a good hook: if Mitt Romney wins, we have divorced our president, a serious matter worth some reflection.
The term “divorce” used in the sense of making President Barack Obama a one-termer got my attention, because I have never experienced divorce, having worked to keep my marriage, wanting very much to see the big picture of things. I compromised when I could not get what I wanted, and prayed hard for evolving integrity to endure together with the husband of my youth.
I believe my party has the better candidate in the big picture. A difference in me and many others who follow politics is that I entertain the idea that I may be wrong. It would be really nice to go back to a more familiar American economy in which the word “jobs” did not dominate the media. A good job is so important (that’s why I do not hold one; no goodjob available). Mr. Romney is smart and religious. He has done a lot of business over more than two decades.
Governor Romney got to do some business in our most culturally advanced state: Massachusetts. It is a Democratic state, for the most part. He may have a short-term fix. But I like Barack and I trust my party right now more than I trust the Republicans (I once voted Republican). I am not afraid of Barack’s motto: Forward.
It is a big world. I have read a book cover-to-cover, scanned others, and read several articles about Barack’s parents and other influences. I am proud of what Barack Obama brings to the presidency: exceptionally high intelligence; devotion to father role; charisma; life experiences in Indonesia, Pakistan, Kenya; in problem-solving style an introvert, confident, and patient; and last but not least, moderate in party politics. I want to see him at work for our country another four years. I want him to be a two-termer, and we need to hold steady.
Holding steady in a relationship can bring reward. In regard to the marriage metaphor, I have received what I ultimately sought in a life partner. In regard to electing Mitt Romney, let’s read Jim Rutenberg of the above-mentioned article “A Suitor Seeking Acceptance Must Make a Case for Divorce.” Consider this line he wrote:
“And, Republican strategists acknowledge, they have to contend with a general sense in polls of swing voters that Mr. Obama inherited an economy in dire shape, and that his policies could improve the economy more substantially if given time.” Reading this, I thought it was the best way to look at whom to elect.
This blog being designed for my writerly self, especially love of the essay, I am posting a recent lightweight one dealing with a strong emotion about wanting a change. I wanted to change where I live. The reason? Too many trees and wildlife. I wrote this shortly after returning from a Brooklyn and New York City vacation. I do not really want to move right now, but it was Spring 2012, I am primarily a city-slicker, and the dozens of grey squirrels and red chipmunks were madly traversing our property, worrying us, and putting some plantings at risk. But I am over it. The spring lushness and fully developed families of squirrels are not so much in my face now at the end of summer.
The essay may serve to demonstrate that desire for change can pull at our minds and hearts and feel like extremely strong pressure. I say take a deep breath and give feelings time to level out. As the British say, “Keep calm and carry on.” The good, bright things hidden behind strong, dark emotions, when one is faced with major decisions such as buying and selling a piece of property, or electing a president, may come back to awareness with calm breathing.
Who Wants To Live In A Forest? Not Me!
During Memorial Day holiday weekend, still thinking about the week-long Brooklyn and Manhattan vacation my husband and I had in mid-May, a gentle time of year for travel, I walked in my Memphis neighborhood. I realized, while tuned in to my local environment, that I am sick of all the tall trees full of grey squirrels,
jittery critters that clatter down the tree trunks and scamper about yards fearlessly.
I’m also sick of the burrowing chipmunks who make a subuniverse of connectedness in the yards of my neighborhood, especially my own! If we say Brooklyn has an underground system, meaning the subway trains, then I say Memphis has an underground system– a separate communication system created and maintained by four-inch-small, reddish-brown chipmunks that hollow out perfect tubes four inches under any yard or garden, visiting with their reproducing relatives in nearby green acres.
Having been away from my property on vacation for a week, a week when the sun shone in Memphis and beckoned the chipmunks to come out and expand their subterranean subdivision, I feel I am fighting a losing battle. The holes in our backyard are too numerous to count. The small critters have multiplied, and the scary part is that they seem to be more intelligent than the tree squirrels. The ground-skittering pests seem to taunt us by running across the deck when we are inside looking out through the glass doors, run across the driveway when we come out the back door, run everywhere. They could actually set up house in the storerooms of the carport by running under the doors, if they so chose!
What can be done about it? Not much. Now and then a stray cat walks through the yards, which we like. A sticky glue trap brand-named “Tom Cat” has been strong enough to hold one or two of these dozens of pests that dig up the yard, and it seems a bit cruel, if you stop and think about dying from exhaustion. A “flood ’em out” with water spray wedged into one of their main encampments was a recent strategy. Then, two large chipmunks ran out at me, gave me a fright!, and then disappeared. Strategy failed. The chipmunks still dig and disturb. The Memphis soaking rains quell the little rascals’ activity, but when things dry out, here come the invaders! I need a yard professional, it seems.
In spring in Memphis, give me a hotel-type abode. Free me from life in the renown hardwood forest of the mid-South. Give me concrete and open sky. Brooklyn, bring me to you! May I live among your high buildings, narrow flats (barely affordable even with just a few hundred square feet), streets full of purposeful walkers and bikers, and honking traffic? May my daily life experience not be dominated by worry over yard maintenance and repair of damage done by pesky wildlife?