I haven’t found the right words yet for the election. Many are posting long treatises on Facebook. Manifestos. Jokes. Memes.
I cannot yet get it together. My responses on Facebook and Twitter count as some of the most disorganised and obscenity-laced I’ve published. I need to gather it all and make it work somehow, and at the moment all I can do is babble.
Brexit and Trump in the same six month period. My grandchildren will forgive me nuking my feeds with ‘Fuck’ interchanged with ‘shit,’ ‘god damn it,’ and ‘fuck.’
I deleted the post I had set up to publish while I was at work on Wednesday afternoon at 14:00. For what it’s worth, this is what I had written:
96 years ago, this picture ran in the newspaper.
“The sky is now her limit,” created by Elmer Andrews Bushnell in 1920, shows a young woman carrying buckets on a yoke, looking up at ladder ascending up to the sky. The bottom rungs are labeled “Slavery,” “House Drudgery,” and “Shop Work.” The top rungs are labeled “Equal Suffrage,” “Wage Equity,” and “Presidency.” (Library of Congress)
She isn’t who I would have wanted. She isn’t perfect. But this is an historic day.
As it turned out my misgivings and dread, months-old and deep, were well-founded.
I don’t yet have the words. But this was absolutely heartbreaking.
And for now, my kindergarten girls are getting extra high fives.
I’ll be back with you all soon.
Reverse Retrograde 