Work on that Aim Friday Round-Up

The shape of my day is largely defined by whether the cat has missed the mark. He didn’t this morning, but he did yesterday, and it had an undeniable chilling effect on my happiness. I’ve dealt with a lot of human and animal excrement in my long life, and I don’t begrudge any creature their ability to step over or around their own mess. It just seems like I’ve worn a sign all these years that shit doesn’t bother me, which is largely, but not always, true.

I went to an actual shoe store today. Remember shoe stores that had salespeople with shoehorns in their pockets? The ones where they bring you different sizes and colors of the shoes you like until you settle on one or two? The ones where the salesperson becomes your immediate best friend and you share wisecracks and inside info about your feet? Where they also sell super cute socks, but you draw the line there because what you bought will require a small bank loan? Every couple of years I splurge and it’s wonderful.

I bought red boots. They’re adorable and super well-made, like a cobbler somewhere in Germany spent a year stitching them together. They’re going to make me feel elflike and magical. Maybe I will take tap dance lessons at the senior center. I went to a workshop on ageism today which taught me to say that I’m never too old to do things, so I could tap dance if I want. Just probably not in these boots.

This all sounds normal but it’s not normal. The news is not normal, the destruction and violence are not normal, and the conversations people are having about protecting themselves and their loved ones are not normal. We are fawns in the face of such unmitigated lawlessness. Writing that, though, I am remembering what musk ox do when there is a threat to a member of their herd. They form a circle with their backs to the center, protecting the most vulnerable. And they stand shoulder to shoulder looking out at the tundra for the next threat. In this way, they become an impenetrable force.

Old people have power. We have to show up – at community meetings, demonstrations, protests. We have to make the calls, write the letters, craft editorials. We have to donate money, twist arms, and insist. Nothing we are doing is more important than bringing the vast weight of our experience and authority to this moment. We cannot be observers. What is happening now to our country cannot be our legacy.