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| Foreboding |
"Too political".
That was one response I received from a reader of my previous Photo-blog, Please Mister Postman, a post concerning the administration's attempt to undermine the USPS. The assault was led by recently appointed Postmaster General Lous DeJoy, a man selected not for meritoriously working his way up through the ranks but as a major donor to POTUS's election campaign. FYI, in testimony before a congressional panel Mr. DeJoy admitted he didn't know the price of a postcard stamp!
OK, OK perhaps that blog post was a tad too political. So I'll shift the focus of this edition to one where I bare my soul with heartfelt feelings. They all coalesce under the heading, Anticipation Angst. As I enumerate the 'whys' of my trepidations, perhaps you will understand, and empathize.
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| The Mask - don't leave home without it |
First, the elephant in the room precipitating my angst is anything but a lumbering pachyderm. It's microscopic, but virulent, usually debilitating, and all too often lethal - the COVID-19 virus.
The bug has infected life as we knew it before the first mandates for social distancing, masking, and singing Happy Birthday twice while washing and washing hands. Fortunately the bugger has not infected the bodies of my wife and me, or any of our children and grandchildren. For that I am most grateful. And I also feel so fortunate to have spent the last few months in our family vacation house in New Hampshire's Upper Valley. There, the air was fresh and clean and a vast array of New England warm weather recreational options on land and water were available. We enjoyed them all. Then as summer turned to fall we were witness to a glorious transition to October colors. As an added bonus, COVID numbers were low. It felt safe.
That was then and this is now.
At the end of the month on October 31st, little make-believe ghosts, goblins, and fiends will invade our neighborhoods and return home loaded with the spoils of their onslaught. Then really scary demons will descend - November looms.
The angst feels like the dread a fine china shop owner must feel upon seeing a bull at the door, frothing at the mouth ready to enter and rampage.
November was already my least favorite month well before the pandemic - trees become bare, temperatures drop, rain is chillingly cold, days are short. Outdoor activities which animated previous months gradually grind to a halt. There's no snow as yet for winter recreation - it's just gray and depressing. There will be more time spent indoors and inherently less social distancing. You can just sense COVID-19 working up its appetite.
Sadly, this gray November scenario is just a warm up act to the main event, the most contentious, critical election of our times. Despite current poll projections of the popular vote, the Electoral College numbers are far from certain. Even if the outcome mandates passing the presidential baton, the two hundred forty-four year precedent of the peaceful, collaborative transfer of power has already been threatened, just as the legitimacy of the election results. In short, the experiment of our American form of democracy is at stake. Is my Anticipation Angst more understandable now?
That said, my wife and I, along with our circle of friends and family have not been sitting by idly and agonizing. Collectively we've engaged in multiple initiatives - postcards to voters, texting to get out the vote, phone banking, etc. Some, like my wife, have also taken on recruiting poll watchers and ballot curing. Our objective - maximal voter turnout and we want it to be protected. We believe your vote is your voice!
It must be used. It must be protected. It must be counted.
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| If I can do it, so should you |
Oops, maybe this post ended up being too political. Sorry about that ..... not really.
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