The Storm is Gathering Once Again

Surviving the Current Apocalypse

Winston Churchill, the British Prime Minister who led Britain to victory in World War II, was quite a wordsmith. As a witness to the rise of tyranny in Fascist Hitlerian Germany, he was well equipped to write The Gathering Storm. Members of Parliament at the time ignored him as he repeated over and over, “Germany is arming – she is rapidly arming – and no one will stop her.”

And we all know what happened when nobody paid attention to him (and other voices loud in their Cassandra-like warnings) …

On December 23, 1776, Thomas Paine wrote so very eloquently, mind you, in The American Crisis, “These are times that try men’s souls.” I prefer substituting the word “people” for “men,” but that’s moot, given what’s transpiring outside my door, up the street, across the state, and in the halls of power in our nation’s capital.

Paine would turn over in his grave, if that were possible, to see the state of the union he fought so hard for.

Every day now, I read of some new violation of values I hold dear:

Honor

Duty

Law

Compassion

Empathy

Reason

Truth

As a nobody without power, the only thing I can do is vote and hope that others do as well to help return our country to its long journey toward the goals set out in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. No, we’ve never reached those lofty sentiments, but we have made progress, albeit slowly, much of the time. And that progress meets resistance, constantly, from those who fear change and equality and the Rights of Man (People).

Until I can cast my vote again, what is to be done?

The usual things, such as calling and writing congressional representatives, don’t work in red, conservative-led states like Florida. Protesting in the streets, yes, that’s possible. And effective, too, at least when enough alarmed citizens take up signs and chants.

Think of the Vietnam War protests. The Solidarity Movement in Poland. The Civil Rights Movement.

But sometimes, the day-to-day barrage of alarming news requires withdrawing, a seeking of solace in quiet places and activities, away from the madding crowd.

I turn inward, recouping fortitude and feistiness by reading, cooking, and sewing. Now I know these may not work for everyone. What I am saying is that retreating from the screens in our lives needs to be like breaking up with a lover or beloved friend who demands too much of you.

My mind feels suddenly free as I get up from my desk and go to the kitchen, where I page through a print cookbook, feeling the pages slip through my fingers. The cool air of the open refrigerator soothes me as I search through the crisper, looking for a red onion and a head of garlic. I sniff the garlic, its scent perfuming my hands as I break the head apart and peel a few of the cloves. I stir a pot of homemade marinara, and my thoughts go to the mold-infested cookbook I bought from a thrift store. (Yes, I threw it in the trash, for fear of the mold taking over the pristine pages of my multitude of books.) I bought a brand-new copy to replace the damaged one.

I wish it were that easy to be rid of the ideology poisoning my country.

And when I sit at my sewing machine, piles of colorful fabric stuffed on shelves nearby, I dream of quilts yet to be made as the machine hums away. The next quilt I plan will be “Citrus,” using fabric in varying hues of orange and yellow.

The New York Times recently featured an article – “Sewing is Cool Again” – about how sewing is making a comeback. It’s no longer just for grandmothers. Young people line up for sewing classes, saying how refreshing it is to create something concrete.

Being in the moment, being present, these words of wisdom come to life when my hands are busy. The Bible, for what it’s worth, contains much wisdom (as well as much that should be ignored). “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” from Proverbs 16:27, hints at how sitting around doing nothing but reading lies and hateful diatribes damages the psyche.

After a while, maybe just a few days at most, I’m ready to rejoin the chorus of voices exclaiming, “This isn’t the United States we stand for.” I click on the links to my favorite news sources, brace myself, and read.

I then get up and walk to the kitchen, rustling around in the pantry, looking for something I know not what. Or I dart into my sewing nook, crammed into a corner in a bedroom. As my hands touch the canned tomatoes or the cotton fabric, my mind shifts. My mood lightens.

And that is how I hope to survive this apocalypse, the gathering storm of our times. Stealing away to savor brief moments of forgetting what’s outside my door, up the street, across the state, and in the halls of power in our nation’s capital.

Then comes the work of staying informed, speaking out, and voting.