Tour de Sarah

I started doing “morning pages” about six years ago. I did them religiously every day for almost a year; now I do them when I am feeling unsettled. (Morning pages are a practice that Julie Cameron teaches - quick background here: https://www.urbanwildstudio.com/blog/2024/2/21/benefits-of-morning-pages-artists-way-graphic-notes. I’m a huge fan of this. And before you say anything else: yes, it does take about 20 min first thing in the morning. Bitch about it, worry about it, or just do it. I recommend the last choice.)

I close my morning pages every day with writing out the St. Francis prayer of peace. Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is darkness, light…” Sometimes I forget some of the statements. I never have them in the same order. But I have added one statement consistently to the prayer: Where there is fear, let me bring courage.

I think about the places I’ve been, some of the people I have walked with…and I know that part of what cows them (us) is fear. And that locating and fueling courage is part of how we all keep taking steps forward.

I am in Arlington, Massachusetts right now, one town “ovah” from Somerville. I can walk to the Somerville line in about 10 minutes, and the town line for Medford is even closer. Tufts University sits in Somerville and Medford, and it is where I went to undergrad. I showed up in 1987, 18 years old, with a head of steam to change the world. I was a Democrat, progressive, perceived myself to be standing up for human rights. I worked for Governor Dukakis. I protested the Gulf War that erupted in 1990.

Now 55, I am back in the neighborhood, and on Tuesday, a young woman who is a doctoral student at Tufts, was taken into custody by plainclothes, armed and masked people. The surveillance video (https://www.nytimes.com/video/us/100000010075008/tufts-student-ice-arrest.html?smid=url-share) of this clearly shows that Rumeysa Ozturk was alone when she was detained; shows how they physically handled her, shows they were not uniformed and that their faces were covered. If they introduced themselves, identified their agencies or told her what was happening, they did it in precious little time because she was handcuffed and walked to an unmarked car in less than one minute. I went to a protest about this on Wednesday where a speaker shared that she was on the phone with her mother when she was detained. (Holy shit, what if my daughter was on the phone with me when masked and armed men not in uniforms physically restrained her? It goes without saying…but also must be said: men physically restraining women, and in detention centers…bad things happen.)

Where are we? Is this the United States of America? Is this the place where we have the First Amendment to the Constitution (Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.) and the Fourth Amendment (The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.) and the Fifth Amendment (The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.)?

It seems like almost a third of our “inalienable rights” were violated for this woman in a matter of minutes. How can they do this?

Being physically close to the site of this act (I want to call it an abduction, and I also don’t want you to think I am using intentionally inflammatory language) is making it real for me in a different way. Ozturk being a student at Tufts, and my receiving emails from the University as as an alumna, is making it real for me in a different way. Her being a young woman, just a few years ahead of my own daughter, is making real for me in a different way.

And it is scaring me - and I don’t know what to do. I joined Indivisible. I read Jess Craven’s Chop Wood, Carry Water. I call my Tennessee Congressman and two Senators on the regular (Marsha Blackburn’s staff person literally yelled at me on the phone and told me I was wasting her time. I can’t believe I couldn’t find the record function on my phone fast enough to record it. She was rude, uninformed, and argumentative.) I read Tim Snyder. I have marched twice, and have two protests in my near future. I make a monthly donation to the ACLU.

And I am doing my morning pages now every day, ending with the St. Francis prayer 2.0: where there is fear, let me bring courage. Maybe this mantra will help me continue to find courage as well as help bring it.

Is this heaven? No, it’s Iowa. That great line from Field of Dreams popped in my head when I crossed over the Missouri River from Omaha, NE into Council Bluffs, IA. I fiddled with my phone (yes, a little bit while driving, but it’s pretty empty out there) to see if an audio book of Shoeless Joe by W.P. Kinsella exists. Yes. $12.99. So I go to Apple Book, thumbprint my way to owning an audio version of Shoeless Joe and push play.

I am on IA-92 east, choosing state highways as often as I can because it is infinitely more pleasant - less traffic, two lanes (most of the time), smaller shoulders, and regularly passing through small towns. It almost feels like I am walking through a museum - seeing things that are foreign and new to me. These small towns Treynor, Carson, Griswold...where did they come from? Why did they spring up? A surprising number of roads and farms are called “Riverside,” but I don’t see many rivers.

In Iowa - as distinct from my memories on state highways going through Arkansas and Nebraska - I see a public library in almost every town, right on the main highway. Is this distinctly Iowa? I am biased, you see. I was born in Iowa. I went to kindergarten in Iowa, and it is where I learned to read. When we moved to Atlanta in the middle of my kindergarten year, I learned that they didn’t teach children to read in Georgia until first grade. It might have shaded me with a sense of superiority ever since.

The Iowa landscape is rollier than I imagined. In western Iowa, the cornfields are lightly terraced. I’m assuming it’s all corn. It’s all stalks cut to less than a foot above the ground. Seeing it like this makes me want to see all the seasons - the planting, the growing, the harvesting. What is it like to grow up in a place that revolves around this harvest?

There are lots of American flags flying. Are they all totems to MAGA? There are also Trump signs here and there, but not like in Tennessee. Or at least not now; maybe some came down after the election. But the MAGA hold on our country just perplexes the shit out of me. In this farmland, acre after acre, farms spread far apart from one another, small towns where I imagine everyone knows one another…how has meanness, anger, pettiness taken hold? In these places where I would imagine people would have to rely on each other, and have seen the best and the worst of one another, and there is little anonymity, why has meanness prevailed?

In education data, there is a durable finding that people rate public education broadly very poorly. But they rate their local schools very positively (even when those schools stink). I think it’s the same for government - people hate the big, amorphous “them” of big government, but think their local council is doing the best they can. I’m not sure. So could it be that the MAGA stance is just a big government thing, but not how people live their lives?

There is not doubt that Washington - and pretty much anything associated with big cities - feels a million miles away from here. It’s easy to imagine that folks on farms in Iowa would feel left behind or just ignored. I try to think of myself walking down the street in Boston, and then sitting in a coffee shop in Griswold, Iowa. These two places don’t meet very nicely. I am persuaded by David Brooks’s analysis that the Democrats did get too cozy in the highly educated, intellectual elite sphere. Too much “we know what’s best.”

What doesn’t square - at least for me - is why so many people would become not just supportive of, but fully dedicated to a complete charlatan. A liar. A bully. Someone who has never served, someone who grew up wealthy and used his wealth and power to hurt people over and over and over again. Why isn’t that rejected on its face? It’s not like there aren’t other Republicans out there. Mike Pence for goodness sake. Why this completely amoral, golf-cheating, non-family oriented schoolyard bully? What do people see in him??

I drove to the town where I was born, Muscatine, sitting right on the banks of the Mississippi, which is also the border between Iowa and Illinois. I drove by the first house I lived in at 603 Leroy Street and to Grant Elementary School, where I learned to read. When I drove downtown, I accidentally passed by the church where I was baptized and where I learned the Lord’s Prayer.

It was lovely visiting this town - and imagining what it was like for my parents to pack up two small girls and all their belongings and move to Atlanta where neither had family or experience. But my dad’s job moved us, and Atlanta is where I grew up.

I walked along the Mississippi for a bit, giant gusts of wind blowing me almost off my feet. I got two guacamole tacos at a place on E. 2nd street, hopped in my car, and kept on driving.

Have you all read Ross Gay's The Book of Delights? One of my coaching clients sent it to me...run, don't walk to go read this book. Gay, a poet and essayist, set himself out to write about a delight each day over the course of a year. He started on his birthday.

The writing is wonderful, and the delights many - but the really wonderful thing is that he found that this project tuned up his "delight meter." Isn't that fabulous? That we could strengthen our senses and abilities to see, feel, touch, experience more delights. I love that so much.

So here are a couple of mine, pulled from my drive from Atlanta to Denver. First leg was 386 miles to Jackson, Mississippi, a town I had never been to before. I went there to see a new friend whom I met through work. A drive-by chance to forge more of a connection. Delights along the way:

• At a McDonald's in Heflin, Alabama, the 60-ish woman behind the counter steered me away from their (dumb) screen-based ordering system. "Hey, beautiful, what can I get you?" And she "beautiful-ed" me about 12 more times, loving my "style," wishing me a great day, loving on me just a little bit. Why? It's just how she walked in the world. And there were (real!) flowers in bud vases on every table...in McDonald's. In Central Alabama. Who would have guessed? Pure delight.

• The Old Capitol Inn in downtown Jackson. Whoosh - this was a risk! My friend, T, warned me off of this place...but there aren't lots of hotels in Jackson, and they were alot pricier than I expected. The reviews for the Old Capitol were great, as were the photos...so I booked it anyway. It is a refurbished YMCA; boutiquey in the extreme. Which really can go either way. I arrived after dark, and there was a tiny drive in front to park while checking in. It was so small I wasn't sure I was understanding correctly to park there. All my sensors were on high alert for whether this was a terrible idea. I climbed 8 steps to the front door...and it was locked. Weird, right? My sensors really went bezerk - and quickly morphed into full-on coping mechanisms: "It's only one night. It will be fine. If it's really terrible, I'll just leave..." I rang a doorbell. When there was no answer, I called a phone number that is posted. The front desk clerk / night manager / bar tender came to the door immediately. He was relaxed and kind. He had been helping a guest connect to WiFi. He checked me in, got me up to my room...and it was heaven. A cool/chic vibe, a sitting room that opened to the bedroom. A towel warmer! What? I never used one of those. I took 2 showers in 9 hours just to use that towel warmer again. Windows that were more like French doors, opened to the outside. It was such a treat all the way around - a delight, a surprise...and with a little Southern Gothic thrown in with the funny locked door scenario. Not least: the Old Capitol Inn's breakfast did not disappoint.

I took a run in a dark, sprinkling morning and ran around the Capitol and a downtown park.

Right across the street from the Old Capitol Inn is the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum and the Mississippi History Museum; reviews and my friend T said they are great. I didn't get to visit, but I did get to see her. Amen!

Next leg: 486 miles to Bentonville, and my first time in Arkansas. (I have now been in 48 of 50 states!)

• First delight is Shane, a mechanic at a small garage at a crossroads on SR-65. I am driving in my brand-new-to-me car, still with dealer tags. (a MEGA UN-delight: buying a car from Carvana. Don't do it!!) The license plate wasn't screwed in tightly enough and was banging on the back of my car - thud, thud, thud. Or at least that is what I thought was causing this unnerving noise. I was taking state highways - so much more pleasant than the interstate. And, as it turns out, providing easy access to this small garage. I pull up and approach two gentlemen hanging around a truck in the gravel yard surrounding the garage. I ask if someone might help me tighten my license plate down. "You'll have to ask Shane." Which made me think: really? I have to ask someone to access a screwdriver? But I go into the garage and interrupt two men who are leaning into the engine of yet another truck. "Is one of you Shane?" "That's me. What do you need." And I plead my case again. And Shane, with lightning bolt tatts from elbow to shoulder, grabs a drill, walks out, tightens up the screws in 10 seconds. I lean in to hug him, but he tells me he is dirty, so I just press my cheek against his. And I'm off.

• Crystal Bridges Museum. Wow, a WHOPPER delight: this museum in Bentonville, envisioned and brought to life by Alice Walton, is spectacular. Really - I need more superlatives to get it right. Unexpected in the extreme. Completely gorgeous and uplifting inside and out. The buildings almost float; the grounds are interesting gardens and paths - one of which leads to complete Frank Lloyd Wright house that was taken apart in New Jersey, and reassembled in Bentonville. I saw Norman Rockwell's Rosie the Riveter - she has her foot on a copy of Mein Kampf. I saw work from old friends Jacob Lawrence and Charles Sheeler. Georgia O'Keefe. And many new artists I hadn't seen. I was there in the early evening, as it was getting dark. There were few visitors at that time, and the outside darkness made for a warm and serene experience indoors. It is really an incredibly lovely place.

Gotta harvest these delights, y'all, cause the world is upside down right now. I send peace - and also am gonna participate in a flash mob protest dance on Saturday in Boston. I'll report out!!

xo

Stop 3 in Gap Year of Love: Denver, Colorado.

I lived here 25 years ago (!!!) and loved it. I always thought I would come back. I moved into my apartment - first apartment without roommates - started a new job where I didn't know anyone, and didn't know anyone in Denver. And when I moved in, I thought: "I am home." Isn't that wild? I just knew it was home.

I spent today tooling around the neighborhood where I lived, Capitol Hill bleeding into Cheeseman Park. Our neighborhood was where they called the King Soopers grocery Queen Soopers.

Colorado is showing me its best - wow, the sunshine! Blue skies, cool temps, light snow most nights I have been here. Honestly...it's glorious.

I'm living with my sister-friends Elizabeth and Diane. I choose the words "living with" instead of visiting because we discovered an important rule of this nomad gap year. People I am staying with must not feel any hosting responsibilities. (It's better for me, too, to not feel so much like a guest.) It's working for us - even as others gasp when they learn I am staying a month. "Wow, that is some kind of friendship!," they say. Yep. What a damn blessing that the three of us were up for this because it is really, really nice to be together.

I walked downtown Denver today, wandered through the library and across the grounds of the capitol. I made three phone calls while walking: my Representative and both Senators from Tennessee. Today, my call was about objecting to shutting down the Consumer Finance Protection Board. Earlier this week it was about shuttering US AID. I meant to call every day this week - even put an item on my calendar...and found I just couldn't. Even a few lousy phone calls drained me - it's the feeling of inefficacy that drains me, not the actions themselves.

What I did instead of those calls: 1) checked into a virtual meditation with Cambridge Insight Meditation Center for the first time in ages; 2) had zoom calls with two groups of sister-friends, and we did not talk politics; 3) listened to a talk about how to fortify and train the heart for skillful living.

I had to. The litany of terrible things was terrifying me and breaking my heart. I had to / have to get more stable. I can't sling the anger and outrage. The thing that tanked me the most was a news report that the Felon's approval ratings are going...up. It's causing all kinds of questions for me about what it means to be an American. They are shredding the rule of law, our constitution, the ideals of liberty and justice for all. Do they think they are American? If so, what am I? This concept of identifying with a nation is perhaps more prominent in my mind because of returning from Liberia - there were lots of "this is Liberia," or "this is how the Lebanese are," or "Nigerians are x,y,z." So I was often saying or thinking about what "Americans" are like. And then: am I one?

Walking through Denver today, I found myself making a list of all the great things that government does for me, my family, and for our collective:

1. 12 grades of education
2. Safe roads
3. Libraries
4. The person/ agency who put icey-melt on the path I walked this morning in James A. Bible Park
5. Health insurance for my parents
6. Trash pick up

ETCETCETC....you can see how this list gets so long so fast. Why the fuck would we destroy it?

xo

Atlanta, stop two in my Gap Year, is a wrap. I got here December 24, and will pull out tomorrow, January 30. It was alot busier of a time than I had in my mind's eye, which is making me pause a little on how to plan and focus my time in the coming months.

Some poetry happened while I was here: Jimmy Carter died. I was seven years old when he was elected President, and I was living in Atlanta. Georgia was very proud to have him in the White House. My dad was into solar energy at the time, and Carter put solar panels on the White House. I remember all that. The Carter Center is walking distance from my sister's and dad's homes; the grounds of the Carter Center are where my sister and our daughters went to celebrate Biden's win in 2020. He was a man of astounding intellect and character. For some reason, I enjoyed being in Georgia for his passing.

We moved my mom into a "retirement" community / continuing care place. It was a big step, and the right step. She is brave and optimistic - and a lovely person to spend time with. So, after only one week, her dinner schedule is full and she is joining a group outing to the symphony tomorrow. I feel like we should create a bingo board for her: ukulele lesson; water polo game; line dancing; American Sign Language class. She will knock all that stuff out in no time. I spent a week with my mom, for the days before the move and the first three nights in her new place. When I left, I told her the training wheels were coming off. And now, I see her pigtails flying, hands barely on the handle bars as she cruises forward. What an awesome next chapter. Amen.

The activity raining down on us from the feds is head spinning. I'm determined to find some solid ground (in my heart, in my head) to work. On. Something. I just don't know what it is yet. If you have an idea, let me know. In the meantime, I assembling a bit of a playlist to help me out, and at the top is Walking Uphill by my faves, Lake Street Dive (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RN6Q8exrEXY). "Feels like I'm walking uphill now...It's all getting pretty damn real now." True dat.

I start a three-day drive to Denver tomorrow. First stop is Jackson, Mississippi. It will be my first visit there, and I will happily connect with someone I used to work with who is doing great work in Jackson Public Schools. Day two, I head to Fayetteville, Arkansas - another place I haven't been, but have heard wonderful things about. Day three, I'll make it to Denver. A long drive day, with time to think, settle, listen to a book, and see the sun set in part of the country I haven't been in for some time, but really love.

Hugs and love, people. More from Denver!