On The Precipice
This morning as the sun rises once again through my live oak, I find myself wondering what’s next. What do you call pre-postpartum? For one reason or another, things have stacked up around here with an end-date of mid next week. The obvious event is the Tuesday national election that has been the subject of all of our viewing pleasure and speculation for the better part of two years now. And yet with more than 66 million ballots already cast, with a newly installed 6-3 conservative and originalist stacking of the Supreme Court, and with an election night that looks to turn into an election week at very least, I am no longer sure that November 3rd remains the threshold that Election Day used to be. We have friends from Sonoma coming down to spend the election days with us here (they are actually choosing to stay in a local hotel rather than our guest room for some combination of comfort and COVID caution). I have geared my gardening efforts to coincide and peak with their visit, less because they will notice and more because deadlines are good ways to force a march to completion.
I have always liked the expression “All dressed up and nowhere to go” because it is so visually rich and recalls me standing in a tuxedo wondering what to do next in my party duds. That seems an appropriate sentiment for this moment and I suspect I will go to bed on Tuesday night with a similar feeling. I have equally always liked the expression “It’s not the destination, but the journey.” That too seems an appropriate reminder I must keep at hand as I sink into some form of wonderment as to where to go next. That is the problem with events and forced marches, they are about the destination and not about the journey. You should get dressed up for the sake of enjoyment and reverie and not because you must go somewhere or be somewhere.
I don’t know if it is just me, but life is sometimes confusing in that we play mind games with ourselves to keep up our psyche and enthusiasm (or at least I do) and then we need to remind ourselves that life is not about crossing days off of a calendar, but in marveling that there is so much to do, so much wonder in the world to enjoy and so much to look forward to no matter where we stand at the moment. A precipice can be a wondrous viewpoint to the distant horizon or it can be the end of the line and a dramatic ending to the journey. And there we are, back in head game territory using our brain chemistry to trick ourselves into our next step. Indeed, it strikes me that between now and Election Day we have this special event of our own and recently rejuvenated “holiday” of Halloween where we all ask ourselves whether we are in for a trick or a treat.
I am used to being in New York City on Halloween where the cavorting is especially strong and it is far less about little kids being walked from door to door with a bag filling itself with goodies and more about young urbanites dressed elaborately and filling themselves with the goodies of drink. This year will be different. Kim and I have been invited to a niece’s house along with other family members and the theme is The Wizard of Oz. The idea is to dress like one of the characters of the movie and to bring a door of some sort for the younguns to knock on to get their treats or play their tricks. This strikes me as a perfect balance of the spirit of Halloween for several reasons. First, it can be about the kids getting a version of Trick or Treating that is better than virtual and yet not so really spooky as going house to house during a global pandemic. Secondly, the grown-ups get to exhibit their creativity by finding something unique to dress-up as without having to strain themselves too much (there are only so many characters to choose from in the realm of Oz). Kim will be going as Auntie Emm and so a bonnet and apron with her gray hair in a bun is all that’s required along with a touch of gingham here and there. I have a go-to Halloween hat which is a Russian fur har I acquired in 1988 on my first trip to Moscow. That hat informs all of my Halloween costuming and this year is no exception since the Winkies guarding the dark and foreboding castle of the Wicked Witch of the West wear a similar hat over their ghoulish green faces. Nothing that a little green grease paint, a Groucho nose and eyebrow disguise and a long pruning pole as a stanchion can’t solve. As they say in Oz, “O-ee-yah, e-oh-ah!”
So, unlike most weeks these days, I actually do have something to look forward to in terms of events. I have our trip to Oz on Saturday, Sunday trying to get the last of that green face paint out from behind my ears and then the spine-tingling run-up to Election Day. Since I expect to be sitting on our patio and perhaps even our deck with our friends next week, I want to have everything as perfect as I can make it. My friend is 83 this year and between his various conditions he is unable to enjoy much food and drink and no hot tubbing (skin condition), but his mind is as sharp as ever and his rapier wit will be much appreciated as the country bounces along on the political pinball machine of our national stage with the right side of the board flashing red warning lights of Fascism, the left side blinking Socialism and a big ball trap in the middle called COVID-19. The bumpers on either side are labeled Economic Fiscal Stimulus and Voter Suppression.
I am now sitting out on our patio and checking to make sure that the spa waterfall is working so I can turn it on from my iPhone. Check. I have tested the new butane heater with its three-foot high impressive flame behind a glass cylinder. Check. I have charged up the Japanese faux-bamboo table lanterns. Check. Those same lanterns have imbedded Bluetooth, which I have synched to my iPhone. Check. I have tested that I can get MSNBC Live on my iPhone and Bluetooth it to the lanterns so we can sit comfortably out here and stay tuned into the state of affairs on the election. Check.
I am listening to an MSNBC show with a lifetime Republican who tells the tale of going in today to vote early and finding herself voting straight down the line for Democrats for the first time in her voting life. She said she left the voting booth in tears for what she feels we as a country have come to where her party of record has been hijacked by a madman and all her elected representatives have lost their souls in bending to the enabling extents of backing the man in the White House in order to advance their precious agenda items at any cost. She spoke of feeling like the virus was here to punish the legions of Trump supporters who have descended into the depths of deniability that were still speaking of “the bigger picture”.
We are all on the the precipice. I have learned in the venture capital business to say something my friend Bruce always says while holding up his fingers a fraction of an inch apart, “we are just this far from greatness and this far from abject failure.” That is the precipice we all share, at least for the moment.