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Helping Good Things Grow

I like to start my day with a bit of aerobic  exercise on a stationary bike while reading something inspirational and informative on my Kindle.  Just finished up Go Wild by John Ratey and  Richard Manning, about the benefits of eating and exercising like our ancestors.   They point out that we humans love a view.  A wide open vista makes us feel safe because in primitive times, a favorable campsite was one enabling folks to spot the approach of danger in the form of lions or other wild beasts. 


This makes sense, and explains why some of the earliest pioneer women, led to the middle of a thick, dark forest of Douglas fir, were instantly prioritizing  a clearing….please, good husband, before I go completely crazy?


Well, I'm not afraid of wild beasts or anything else approaching through our surrounding forest, but this craving to see into the distance explains why, this year, I've had so much satisfaction from clearing the blackberries and underbrush from our woods, why I wanted to hack back the thirty-foot diameter  forsythia in the middle of which had grown up a lovely volunteer  black walnut.  I wanted to see farther!  I wanted to watch the rays of sunlight shooting through and lighting up the leaves.


The culminating  project  involved waiting for the tree services guys to show up with their chainsaws and  excavators and in one day of  loud work  take out a decades-old tangle of horizontally growing wild cherry trees in the ancient  front orchard.   We had discovered three or four small oaks fighting their way up to the light, and now they'll be freed to be our oak grove of the future.   This is the view from my kitchen sink, and suddenly I don't feel so smothered.   I was almost shocked at how much it thrilled me, the sight of my husband on his  tractor, tilling up that weed patch that had been  turning up a higher percentage of dandelions ever since we got married right on this spot 45 years ago.  I loved this fresh start.


I must back track here to say how completely distressed I've been over the news lately.   I was annoyed at myself for spending  one of the most golden Autumn days ever visited upon us, a day when my darling grandson Nolan was running around here, glued to my smart phone with earbuds, watching everyagonizing moment of the Kavanaugh hearings.  And it literally made me sick!  My blood pressure went nuts.   The rank injustice of it.  Anyone with half a brain and an ounce of intuition could see that Brett Kavanaugh had done this horrid thing Christine Blasey Ford described, and had been  conveniently  too drunk to remember it.  The fact that we have people in control of the country who think it's perfectly  fine for such a man to sit on the Supreme Court is intolerable. I have no sexual assault survivor story to tell, but if I didn't live three thousand miles away, I could have gladly joined one of those "mobs" wanting to beat down the doors of the  court. And I guess I'm not the only one across the country who feels this way.  I see articles discussing the anxiety the Kavanaugh hearings have triggered in women everywhere.


But now I think, for my own sanity, I'm going to have to stop checking my phone so often to hear whatever  disgusting , appalling new lies Donald Trump is spewing.  I want that despicable, odious man out of my brain, our of our lives, out of the White House.


Yesterday, after raking down the old orchard, Herb scattered the special grass seed.  It's supposed to be tough, drought resistant, ready to withstand whatever comes  along.  We'll have to be that way too.   Planting it seems like a positive thing to do, and now, whatever happens on November 6th when the ballots are counted, we will be right here at Wake Robin Farm, watching this new green grass sprout up, and that will be good.

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Now it Makes a Queasy Kind of Sense

So now Brett Kavanaugh says he was a virgin.  Never had sex for YEARS after his alleged sexual transgressions.  Wow.  Apparently he's admitting this because he thinks it gives him a pass.  Well, not with me.  For me, it just makes the details of the whole story click into sad, pathetic sense.


My degree is in journalism, and I've done a lot of research for my novels which are based on true events.  Particularly with Brides of Eden: a True Story Imagined, which is also the story of sexual transgressions, in this historical case, by a religious cult leader.  Who's telling the truth?  Who's lying?  Who has a motivation to lie?  Who would not want to admit to the truth?


When Christine Blasely Ford came out with her accusations, my mind immediately went to trying to put all this together.  I have believed her from the beginning, and understand completely how such an incident could have traumatized her all these years.  The puzzle for me was what on earth Kavanaugh was telling himself.  Probably something along the lines of how psychologists say people reassure themselves in these cases:  "I know I am a worthy person and a good, worthy person would not do such a thing.  Therefore, I didn't do it."


But now, with  the claim of virginity and the reminder that he went to something called Little Flower church every Sunday, I think I understand why this all seems so unfair to him.  Hey, folks, he wasn't even getting any!  No fair!  He knows so many guys who were doing much worse things as they actually DID have lots of sex!


Does he think this sounds reassuring to women?  It doesn't to me.  It sounds like he's a little off.  I don't want a guy on the court who couldn't fall in love and lose his  virginity like the good guys out there who didn't get drunk and scare women to death, not to mention apparently totally turning everybody off every step of the way.  And then baldly lying about his exploits or at the least, allowing innuendo at the expense of a girl--Renate--whom he now claims to have simply chastely admired.


Ruth Bader Ginsberg had the opposite sort of husband in her beloved Marty.  And there are many other good men out there; I'm married to one of them myself. Why can't we d have one of that sort up there on the bench making laws about what women can do with their own bodies?  Or just cut to the chase and get another woman like Ginsberg, who certainly had nobody coming up with disturbing stories of how she'd traumatized them?


I imagine they will plow through with confirming Kavanaugh as Mitch McConnell has vowed to do, just like they went ahead and confirmed Justice Thomas despite the testimony of Anita Hill.  (And I still haven't recovered from that.)   But if nothing else comes of this, I hope these recent revelations about Brett Kavanaugh will help Blasey Ford recover from the trauma she's suffered all these years over this.  I hope she knows how we're all behind her.


I can't wait to watch her speak up.



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