When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Share a Meal

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Justice O’Connor, who died two years ago on this day, was an advocate for informal lunches at the Supreme Court. Even Clarence Thomas, who’d stayed away from the events, succumbed to her invitations. 

O’Connor and her fellow female justice, RBG, advanced equal rights for all. There are four women on the bench now. It was probably easier for them to get there thanks to the two women who went before them. Here’s hoping they will ease the way to full equality for others. Here’s hoping they will make those SCOTUS lunches welcoming for all as O’Connor did in her day.

Sandra Day O’Connor died on December 1, 2023. Ruth Bader Ginsberg died on September 18, 2020.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sisters_in_Law_(book)

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The One That Got Away

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I want my baby back. Ribs. That’s back ribs. I was standing at the meat counter and there was one package left. It’s been ages since I’ve barbequed ribs, ages. 

The last time was at a cabin up north, summer. The mosquitos were buzzing and I slapped at them and then made a fire to smoke the skeeters away and once you have a fire, then you need some ribs. So we had ribs, potato salad, beans, and apple pie. 

I looked for the ribs. Gone. They were in this lady’s cart heading for dairy. So, I got some tofu.

Advice from an Older Me to My Six Year-old Self

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I traveled in time to my sixth birthday party. I spoke with my younger self. “Psst. It’s hard to wait when you’re six.”

“Yeah, it’s not fair. It’s my birthday. I’m last in line for all the games. My aunt said I should get to go first, but Dad won’t listen to anyone.

“Relax. Life is waiting in lines. You’ll learn to notice what’s important. You’ll see; that’s your superpower.”

“I’m mad and I’m sad.”

“You’ll remember the party that way. But learning to wait is valuable, even when you think waiting isn’t worth it. Also, Dad’s not always right.”

In Retreat

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Lily had a cup of coffee and a bowl of granola after an hour of yoga. The beach was a ten minute walk away. She didn’t gag at the disagreeable smell of rotting algae. She reveled in it. The  sight of plovers hopping along, their beaks poking the wet sand to find breakfast, delighted her. The sunrise shone behind them.

She was beginning to enjoy the solitary days, the solo walks, the freedom to set her own schedule. A month after her partner passed, she had found  a natural habitat where death and life mingled and new mixed with old.

After the Funeral

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Sven was filled with Guinness and peanuts. Distracted by a roadside fruit stand, he ran a stop light.

An ordinary goat in a neon vest and hard hat was selling a variety of grapes: blue concords, tiny green Champagnes and four other kinds. 

“I’ll take a pound of the Muscat,” Sven said through his open window. 

The goat ambled over, leaned on the roof and stared. “You’ve had enough.”

But Sven wanted grapes more than he could say. “They’re for my wife.”

There were no grapes. There was no wife. Sven began to weep for grapes and so much more.

A Mother Knows

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A beloved king lived in a modest bungalow on the edge of the forest. His wife was the kindest and most beautiful of all women. Together they ruled the kingdom of Thryngia in peace and prosperity. If only they had a child to succeed them. 

A charlatan heard of their plight. He found his way into their confidence and promised to bring to life the stillborn child they had buried scarcely weeks before. The charlatan’s cousin, a witch, transformed him into an infant and raised him from the child’s grave. The queen was not fooled. A mother knows her child.

In a Post-Truth World, Nothing Matters ‘Til It Does.

Apprentice reruns, Quanon posts, bread and circuses.
The Freedom Caucus thrives in a MAGA echo chamber.
Imagine them in heated debate over dancing angels on pinheads.
Rapture them up, please, before it’s too late.
Deliver us, oh Lord, from this theocracy.

They’re loyal to a simple truth: Truth Social.
Grifts, disruption, distortions, self-serving tripe, confounding
Crap written by cowardly charlatans.
What they say is different
From what they do.

His Darkness says, “I am your retribution. The future belongs to us.”
He lies.
Lured by a MagaVerse siren song,
They believe him.
They break things with no thought for rebuilding.

Max

Photo by Monica McHenney

Max hopes that Kohnan might come back to live with us. He checks for him sometimes. He stands in front of Kohnan’s bed and sniffs the air. Kohnan’s toy hedgehog still smells like our little black friend. Sometimes, Max seems quite puzzled. Everything is the same; but Kohnan is missing.

Max comforts us by licking our feet in the morning while we eat breakfast. Perhaps it’s because the warm weather has made our skin salty. But I remember that for months after Max moved in, he licked our feet and our knees. This is the way dogs say, “It’s okay.”

Another Big, Beautiful Wall

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DOGE riffed Congress. “They’re a waste of space.” The ACLU protested to the Supremes and lost 5-4, in an unsigned opinion. Executive orders are now the law of the land.

His majesty, Donald I, plans to build a “Big, Golden Wall” in the oval office as a backdrop for signing executive orders. He led a column of minions wheeling suitcases filled with gold bars from Fort Knox. He declared, “Forget gold; Bit Coin is the new normal.”

Next up: inefficiency in the court system. DOGE sent layoff notices to all federal court judges, including the Supremes. There are no appeals.

Ode to Kohnan

Photo by Monica McHenney
His eyes were open and stayed that way
Aware and dignified, right up to the end.
A mensch, reserved, not prone to delay,
Loyal to a fault, on that you can depend.

Saucy he was in the final hours,
Demanded kibble, a last meal at midnight.
Poured out love, licks, and reassurance.

Despite his weak body, his power
Did prolong the end, enough so that we might
Say woof, shed our tears, take one last dance.

He knew it was the end. We, quite sure, thought that he would rally.
He lay quiet, dignified, a friend and most trusted ally.