A Little Comic Relief
This little vignette was making the rounds on facebook recently and it definitely made me smile. God knows we all need a little comic relief these days...
True story.
A Michigan woman and her family were vacationing in a small New England town where Paul Newman and his family often visited.
One Sunday morning, the woman got up early to take a long walk. After a brisk five-mile hike, she decided to treat herself to a double-dip chocolate ice cream cone.
She hopped in the car, drove to the center of the village and went straight to the combination bakery/ice cream parlor. There was only one other patron in the store: Paul Newman, sitting at the counter having a doughnut and coffee.
The woman's heart skipped a beat as her eyes made contact with those famous baby-blue eyes. The actor nodded graciously and the star struck woman smiled demurely. Pull yourself together! She chides herself. You're a happily married woman with three children, you're forty-five years old, not a teenager!
The clerk filled her order and she took the double-dip chocolate ice cream cone in one hand and her change in the other. Then she went out the door, avoiding even a glance in Paul Newman's direction.
When she reached her car, she realized that she had a handful of change but her other hand was empty. Where's my ice cream cone? Did I leave it in the store? Back into the shop she went, expecting to see the cone still in the clerk's hand or in a holder on the counter or something! No ice cream cone was in sight.
With that, she happened to look over at Paul Newman. His face broke into his familiar, warm, friendly grin and he said to the woman,
"You put it in your purse."
Ann Lamott
When in doubt, turn to Anne Lamott:
"We’re all doomed. Resistance is futile.
Oh wait, never mind. What I meant to say was, Could somebody please send me the operating instructions?
Oh wait, never mind. Our marching orders are all over the Internet, with links on how to donate to the cause of women’s reproductive rights, how to aid and abet abortions on the grassroots level, links to where the marches and rallies will be, how to help keep control of the House and Senate.
In the meantime, filled with rage, fear and despair, I remembered a piece I wrote for Salon twenty years ago, on the brink of war on Iraq, so I dug it out, and have retooled it here for the current nightmare. It was called Hard Rain:
Everyone has had a hard time with life lately; not with all of it, just the waking hours. Being awake is the one real fly in the ointment -- but it is also when solutions come to us. So many precious friends died or got horribly sick this year, so many schoolchildren died in shootings, the world burned. One out of seven women in my county is getting breast cancer -- I can't even wrap my mind around that -- and our animals died, but on top of it all, like a dental X-ray apron, is the depression of life with this freak show of Trump’s Supreme Court.
"It's all hopeless," a friend muttered, which I kind of like in a person, and which I almost believe to be true: Nearly every time I remind myself of Friday’s ruling, I think of the old New Yorker cartoon of the two prisoners chained high above the walls of a prison cell, one saying to the other, "Okay, here's my plan."
But it’s not hopeless, not by a long shot. Resistance is not futile. I think it's only one of the hardest things we’ve ever done, and I'll take that over futile any day.
My friend, who is usually a crabby optimist like me, is terrorized. He’s worried about Russian nuclear bombs, the permafrost, and life as we now know it under an endless, paranoid misogynistic right-wing conspiracy. He also sometimes talks about life in shelters, and caves. Now, this would not work for me. Shelters would be bad enough -- a dinner party is a real stretch for me -- but I don't even remotely have the right personality for cave dwelling. I need privacy and silence most of the time. Also, I hate stalactites. It's like Damocles goes cave-camping. (Luckily, I am old and will not live long enough to see that.)
In the days since Roe v Wade was overturned, I have stepped up my do-good efforts, a dependable counterforce to the dread. I went to demonstrations, sent money to Planned Parenthood and UNICEF, and signed petitions. (Always always always, when you don’t know what to do, help take care of the poor.) I prayed like a mother, an auntie, a grandmother. And I bought some flowers to plant, which is a form of prayer.
God only knows how this will all shake down. But in any case, us left wing religious people should try to stay on Her good side. It's not hard. God has extremely low standards. Pray, take care of people, be actively grateful for your blessings, give away your money -- you're cool. You're in. Nice room in heaven, near the dessert table, flossing no longer required -- which is what will make it heaven for me. Oh, and Jesus.
During the build up to the war on Iraq, I rented the movie "Independence Day." I wanted to see what it takes to mount an effective resistance against an alien takeover. This is what the current SCOTUS feels like to me. And according to the movie, it turns out that we have everything we already need. We have a great cause, protecting the lives, health and equality of women. We'll get a break or two in the next few months if we work like hell to hold onto the Senate and House, And we caught one alien -- Clarence Thomas. He handed over the insanity codes when he announced his conviction that overturning Roe v Wade is just the beginning; he took the lid off the stew pot so we could all peek in at how the aliens think. It was a big catch, and I started to feel hope again, that because we had all these things in place -- a cause, impending breaks, a big catch -- now all we needed was to get back to work. Maybe goodness would prevail, maybe not, but probably, and as Molly Ivins wrote years ago, freedom fighters don't always win, but they are always right."
John Lennon said, "Everything will be okay in the end. If it is not okay, it's not the end.” And I do believe this; I just do. I believe that love is sovereign here, and goodness. I just do. So we push back our sleeves, and fight back: left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe. And I believe we can do it, Cinderelli, Cinderelli. I just do.
Wendell Berry Poem
Portrait of Wendell Berry by Robert Shetterly from his Americans Who Tell the Truth Series
The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Whole Woman's Health
Please donate to this organization that helps women get the support they need to navigate the abortion bans and get to states where abortion remains legal.
Painting of the Week
Summer Exhibition at Galleri Liisberg, Hundested, Denmark. Painting by Gert Mathiesen
About The Author
New York City based contemporary artist, Pam Smilow, began writing the creative lifestyle blog “things we love” in an effort to foster a sense of community during times of isolation and reflection. To read more about her and her art, visit her website and check out the essay written by the Hammond Museum's Frank Matheis entitled The Sophisticated Innocence of Pam Smilow.