Quick trip to D.C.
(and a democratic reset)
We had big plans for a long weekend: driving up Friday morning to Washington, D.C. to spend a couple of days touring the Smithsonian Museums, then a visit with Nana and Grandpa for Richard and the girls while I attended the National Humanities Alliance’s conference and advocacy day. Bea and Harriet were both excited to see the Museum of Natural History, the Botanic Garden, and the National Museum of the American Indian. Richard was looking forward to touring the National Gallery of Art, and we were all eager to see Nana and Grandpa.
We arrived Friday night and got to check out the sculptures outside of the Hirshhorn Museum, enjoy some pricey treats from a boba tea truck, and walk past the gorgeous National Museum of African American History and Culture (the first museum on the Mall built to LEED Gold sustainability standards, designed by famed architect—and NC State professor and alum—Philip Freelon). We ate some yummy tacos and glimpsed the White House.
But then both girls got sick, and we had to come home early. Harriet was especially sad to lose out on a weekend of fun—I think Bea was feeling too puny to wish for anything but her bed.
Before we left, I did get to do the research I planned at the Library of Congress. Walking out of that majestic building, I noticed something. The Capitol building, which sits just across from the Library, looked startling to me. There was no reason for it to look startling. The day was quiet, rainy. A few people were milling around, snapping photos. The steps were mostly empty. The wet grass was vividly green.
But I hadn’t been to the Capitol in years, and I realized that the images of January 6—stone walls climbed by attackers in tactical gear, marble steps swarming with insurrectionists, smoke from tear gas filling the sky—had replaced my mental image of the Capitol as an orderly place, a symbol of democracy and the American people. When I envision the Capitol, I now see these images, in the same way that I can no longer think of the Pentagon or the World Trade Center without picturing billowing black smoke.
Like most of my friends and family (probably most of you!), I’ve been feeling so anxious as Joe Biden trails in the polls. Part of me wants to just hibernate until the 2024 election is over. I can barely contemplate the stress and awfulness we’re going to endure leading up to November 5. I can’t stand the thought of another day like January 6, 2021—or, here in NC, October 31, 2020.
But before we left for our trip, Richard and I listened to Joe Biden’s State of the Union speech. And it was so hopeful and good, a reminder that most people don’t want to live in chaos, violence, and bigotry. Of course they don’t! The peaceful U.S. Capitol, with its untrampled plantings of daffodils and hyacinth, was a good reminder too, and I am going to spend more time looking for and celebrating the things that we count on, and that are provided for us by a functional government. Like:
Public schools!
Parks big and small!
Roads and railroads!
Universities doing important research!
Clean(er) air and water! Safe food and medicine! Healthcare!
Librarians, who patiently help people with every kind of question, even at the biggest library in the world.
I’m inspired by my friends doing this work of noticing and advocating and reminding. Cat Warren organizing for County to County, which lends a hand in tight races in NC; Tift Merritt growing her Sing Out team of people to work on voter registration through music events; Jill McCorkle leading Writers for Democratic Action into a new campaign. All my friends in Chatham—Julie, Beth, Brittany, Stephanie, Diane, Monica, Jackie, Garnet, Richard, Emily B., Emily M., and more—working on teacher pay and school equity through Public School Strong, CCAE, and the Education Justice Alliance. Everybody I met at the recent Down Home boot camp, a training weekend for NC progressives growing winnable, grassroots campaigns.
Because I’d almost forgotten a saying I heard at Down Home, which is used to encourage and welcome people into the work:
We win ‘round here.
So let’s do this, y’all. Whether it’s asking Trump-voting Republicans to “tell me one thing Trump did for you—don’t worry, I’ll give you the whole weekend to think of one” (Grampa did this recently with someone he knows through work), to writing postcards and poll greeting (like Mamie), doing community outreach and caregiving (like Nana), organizing get-out-the-vote events (like Tift and Jill), knocking doors and working on messaging (like Cat), signing up for a new role in the Democratic party (like Beth and Liz), talking with elected leaders about the importance of funding research (like my friends from the NHA), or just showing up to support and remind your local leaders that we all want honest, safe, fully-funded, equitable schools (like we will tomorrow night at the Chatham School Board)… all these steps matter a lot, not just in the material difference they make to peoples’ lives but in the message they send to all of us. So I’m reminding myself: this is the country I actually live in, these are my neighbors and family and friends. These are the folks who make me feel hopeful and proud and not like hibernating at all.
What makes you feel hopeful these days?
Love from us at the FTT.
YOU make me hopeful these days, Belle! Your tireless work to make our lives better. Your devotion to our schools and to nature and to speaking out about democracy and the importance of voting (not to mention writing books and teaching)- Thank you. I hope that Bea and Harriet are feeling much better!
What's giving me hope: my Unaffiliated mom committed this weekend to being a monthly donor to my Granville county democratic party, which desperately needs to raise money to fund outreach and our blue ballots program this year. To have the monetary support from someone who isn't fully on board in other ways...it means a lot.