Just Breathe

For a moment, just breathe. Let’s think.

Oh, Saturday’s women’s marches captivated me. Inspired me to action and to hope that we don’t need to settle for the next four years. I am old enough to remember the Nixon years, his paranoia and instability. He, too, believed that he could get away with anything. Time will tell what our 45th president tries to slip past the American people. Once caught, he’ll blame the media for excessive scrutiny and biased reporting. You know that’s coming.

I will be following the lawsuit filed this morning in federal court, the one that alleges that Trump violates the Constitution by maintaining certain of his business ties. I’m sure I won’t be alone in this. I will also follow his actions toward the environment, education, and health care. I’m sure I won’t be the only one. Strong, organized, and stridently vocal resistance to unjust policy changes will (I hope) grab Trump’s attention. If we keep at it, he may even react. If we convince him that his approval numbers will rise and history will better remember him if he listens to the people, playing to his narcissism could work in our favor.

But first we need to step back from this weekend and take a breath. Decide on our next step, the one that will get the best result. Knee jerk reactions are better left to the president.

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Democracy No Longer

Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area Visitor Center, (c) 2015 Elizabeth A. Maginnis

America can no longer call itself a democracy with the rise of Trumpism. Ours is a government by and for the wealthy. If working people figured anywhere in the equation, our Fearless Leader-Elect would have appointed men and women with more modest bank accounts to his cabinet. As it stands, the titans of finance and industry he nominated wouldn’t know the first thing about living paycheck to paycheck, like the rest of the country does.

Steven Mnuchin particularly troubles me. What honest, caring servant of the people evicts a widow for a less-than-$1.00 shortfall in a mortgage payment or locks out a homeowner in the midst of a Midwestern blizzard? I worked the legal end of the New York State mortgage foreclosure process for over twenty years and know an honest lender when I see one. OneWest does not fall under that category. The egregious foreclosure misconduct of OneWest, the bank he led as CEO from 2009 to 2015, violated every law of decency in the name of greed. It flagrantly ignored notice and waiting period statutes and backdated loan documents, all during the tenure of the chucklehead Trump has chosen to head his Treasury Department.

If Mnuchin couldn’t be bothered to show concern for the very people he and his ilk victimized with the bad mortgages that triggered the Great Recession, how are we to believe he will have the best interests of the country’s finances at heart? Isn’t this a little like the fox taking charge of the henhouse?

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Climate Change is my Standing Rock

Abandoned post office building, Kelso, California, August 2016, (c) 2016 Elizabeth A. Maginnis

The inspirational Eve Marko posted in her blog the other day about the origin of the term Standing Rock, which got me wondering about the nature of my own personal Standing Rock. What is mine? What is the one truth, the one cause, from which I will not yield?

The answer, for me, is climate change. And the preservation of our planet. If we do not heed the warning signs Mother Earth is sending us, she will someday become as dry and dusty and useless as this abandoned post office building that I encountered in the Mojave Desert last summer. This is our only home, people! Believe the science!

Trump’s selection of Scott Pruitt as EPA Administrator alarms me. Together, the two of them could turn back the clock and negate all the progress we’ve made. Just listen to all the good people tirelessly advocating for our future. Regulations keep rampant environmental destruction in check. They serve the greater good!

This country has become a plutocracy decimating everyone and everything opposed to its agenda of profit and gain. It’s the common man’s nightmare come true, for who will listen to us? Who will hear our small voices crying out for a leg up, a patch of earth to call our own, a chance to succeed? Land of Opportunity no longer.

I will speak out as often as I can in support of Mother Earth, for whatever my words are worth. I will send my positive thoughts and energy out to land where it will, for the greater good — and fervently hope that others do the same.

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I Have to Be the Change I Want to See in the World

Ivanpah Road, Mojave National Preserve, (c) 2016 Elizabeth A. Maginnis

As this week’s events at The Ohio State University unfolded on my television screen, my thoughts turned to the time when my young granddaughters enter college, in the not-so-distant future. Run Hide Fight. Excellent preparation, as it turns out, but it’s also hard for me not to despair that college life requires education in survival techniques.

However, I will not lament and hash over the years I was in college, when all we worried about was bad weed. The sun came up this morning (as it did the day after Donald Trump became our President-elect). I am trying mindfulness to keep myself focused on what’s in front of me, good thoughts, good energy. Despair does me no good. If I send good thoughts out to the Universe, maybe they will have a ripple effect. Is this how I can make an impact on the world?

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ROAR

From Women’s Rights National Historical Park, (c) 2016 Elizabeth A. Maginnis

Yesterday, for the first time, I voted for a woman for president. We are silent no longer. Our struggle for equal rights has come to this. Thank you, Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Thank you, Susan B. Anthony. I hope our future actions do you proud. I am only sorry that the electorate chose a pompous bombast over progress.

Despite my sadness over the election results, I am heartened by the thousands of people who peacefully waited to pay their respects to Susan B. Anthony yesterday. I am proud to say that I am a native and lifelong resident of this wonderful city that helped launch the suffragette movement. The images that appeared on my evening news broadcast will stay with me forever. There is hope. There are decent people out there.

I have my work cut out for me. I will take heart in Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s words:

“We do not expect our path will be strewn with the flowers of popular applause, but over the thorns of bigotry and prejudice will be our way, and on our banners will beat the dark storm-clouds of opposition from those who have entrenched themselves behind the stormy bulwarks of custom and authority, and who have fortified their position by every means, holy and unholy.”

-Elizabeth Cady Stanton, “Address Delivered at Seneca Falls” (1848)

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I Found my Park

Joshua Tree National Park, August 19, 2016, copyright 2016 Elizabeth A. Maginnis

The National Parks Service has been encouraging the country to “Find Your Park” in this, its 100th anniversary year. My husband found his park several years ago. He loves Death Valley National Park so much that we set aside our own Death Valley Day whenever we visit Las Vegas. Feeling a bit left out, I suggested that this trip we set aside another day for Joshua Tree National Park, which I’ve wanted to see since I laid eyes on my first Joshua Tree some years ago.

It was with no small level of anticipation that I awoke the morning of our adventure. It takes roughly four hours to drive from Las Vegas to Joshua Tree if you take the diagonal route through the Mojave National Preserve, which is a visual treat in itself. Miles and miles of undulating roadway past creosote bushes and Joshua Trees, jagged mountains in the distance. A few abandoned rail yards and old buildings along the way reminded us that this area once thrived. I especially enjoyed passing through the town of Kelso, California, with its old rail cars and abandoned post office.

Many miles of starkly captivating desert scenery later (including a short jog through Amboy, CA, on Route 66) we arrived in the village of Joshua Tree, the funky, artsy capital of the Morongo Basin. I bought a cup of coffee and some beans to take home from the Joshua Tree Coffee Company. Between it and the park entrance, we drove through one of the most unusual, yet visually appealing, residential areas I’ve ever seen: small desert houses plunked down on semicircular hardpan streets in hodgepodge fashion, sloping gradually upward along the side of a hill to the park entrance.

The park is the coolest place on the planet, so far as I’m concerned. Otherworldly Joshua Trees, branches raised heavenward, and massive, odd rock formations that resemble clay pieces left behind by giants eons ago: I felt like a wide-eyed child watching the scenery pass by from the air conditioned comfort of our rental. (The wall of heat that greeted me every time I opened the door got to be a bit much, I confess. I took photographs from inside the car.)

It speaks to me, this place. It tugs and lifts my spirits like none other, perhaps for no other reason than its simplicity. It’s Mother Earth at her most elemental. As time goes on, I find that it’s the untouched landscapes that call to me. Artificial, man made wonders cannot compare to the masterpieces created by unseen natural forces. Fortunately for us and for future generations, the U.S. government has seen fit to preserve these masterpieces.

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For Me, September is Bittersweet

copyright 2016 Elizabeth A. Maginnis

for summer’s end, the time of year when the sun’s angle slips too low and the nights grow too cool to keep the pool’s water temperature warm enough for swimming. Every September, I try to best my record for latest swim; this year I swam to my heart’s content on September 20. That felt wonderful.

I already miss the feel of the water on my skin and that flying sensation as I float underneath the surface. In my pool, I am a kid again.

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Desert Healing

Joshua Tree National Park, August 19, 2016, © 2016 Elizabeth A. Maginnis

 

My husband and I recently returned from a trip to Las Vegas and the Mojave Desert. We love the Desert Southwest. Las Vegas has become our home base for day trips to the area’s natural attractions, most notably Death Valley National Park, Nevada’s otherworldly Valley of Fire State Park, Snow Canyon State Park in southwestern Utah, Malibu Beach and Los Angeles in California, and Sedona, Arizona. This trip, we expanded that list to include the Mojave National Preserve and Joshua Tree National Park.

We drove the Mojave National Preserve cut-through to Joshua Tree in a state of wonder at the beauty unfolding around us. Whoever believes the desert is devoid of life hasn’t truly seen the desert. Creosote bushes (“future tumbleweeds,” we call them) flourish alongside hundreds upon hundreds of Joshua trees tall enough to rival any adult tree back East. Distant mountains stand sentinel over the landscape.

Somewhere along the way, my mind quieted. The constant, senseless thought chatter that fills my head drifted apart. The world around me came into sharper focus. Is this how moments of clarity feel? If so, I highly recommend it. What a wonderful sensation!

This how I want to live my life: peaceful, accepting, appreciative of the gifts the Universe provides. Being human means, of course, slipping off the path more than once, but I’m willing to deal with those slips if I can recall the calm of the desert to quiet my mind.

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Love Those Soft Summer Nights

copyright 2013 Elizabeth Maginnis

My husband reminded me the other day of our two-night honeymoon at a local hotel. We were kids (college students) and basically broke, so the Marriott it was. Being the middle of August, we were able to sit outside on the patio after dark, listening to the hush of the cars on the thruway as we enjoyed a warm summer evening.

That is what I love the most about summer. Although I eagerly dive into our pool each spring for several months of swimming bliss, it’s the nights when the wind hisses through the leaves after dark that I remember most fondly.

So far, this summer has brought hot days and warm nights that necessitate another kind of hiss: that of the air conditioner. Maybe when the season winds down we’ll be able to welcome refreshing breezes as we fall asleep beneath an open window.

For now, I’ll remember our first nights as husband and wife, sitting together on a hotel room patio, in our own world, feeling the warm breeze on our faces while the cars hurtled past on the nearby thruway.

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Missing Maisie

Pet guardians know that there’s that one special animal who tugs at your heart. The one they miss the most after she’s gone. Maisie is that one for my husband and me.

Maisie’s kidney disease finally won. She passed peacefully in my husband’s arms in our vet’s office three weeks ago tomorrow. Quality of life was gone. We knew she was suffering. Yet our lives are sadder and emptier with her gone, even with all the medications and fluid treatments we administered toward the end. My husband commented recently on how lonely the house feels without her.

Maisie fought her disease hard. For two years you wouldn’t have known that that cat had a terminal illness. She was a tough little lady. Two months ago, though, the disease took over as it inevitably does, and we knew we would soon have to say goodbye.

Knowing and expecting the outcome of a terminal illness doesn’t make the end any easier. I cried yesterday after picking her ashes up from the vet. There are days when the sadness appears out of nowhere, but I can feel the happier memories begin to surface. It’ll get better.

We plan to adopt another cat to honor her memory, sometime soon but not yet. I think Maisie will have a “paw” in that, as she did in so many other aspects of our lives. Ever the nosy little Miss Bossy Boots, she never allowed any household goings-on to miss her careful scrutiny. She’ll let us know when the right candidate comes along.

We haven’t lost her. She’s just taken on a different form.

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