If only it were that simple. We so do continue to enjoy that simple, exciting, wishful moment when we are asked to clap if we believe in fairies. I have never been at any performance of this show, be it on stage or via TV, where adults present did not clap, probably with more force and wishful thinking, with more hope, than any child present. The adult fell back to the magical thinking of childhood, hoping, praying, that there yet remained something of the magic of childhood, something of the optimism from a time when anything was possible. Sadly enough, tragically enough, there is very little of that around.
Whose fault is that? How and when did we lose that optimism, that sense of can do American spirit? Cannot give a specific date, but I do know that the loss began decades ago, commenced with the angry opposing forces of progress versus regression, of extremes on both sides which precluded any kind of compromise or rational talk. It continued at exponential pace during the Trump era and is rapidly gaining even more speed these days. Today, analysts are openly speaking, warning, of a possible - probable? - Second Civil War, late to my train, but finally there. Woe upon us when there finally is no one left in the audience who will clap to revive Tinkerbelle, no longer believes in the possibility of impossibility. A sad day indeed.
Replacing hope is cynicism, resignation to a coming world which will please no one other than those on the very top of the food chain. Even they will face the ever teetering and tottering of that ladder they are perched atop, ever shaky in an authoritarian world, where there is no loyalty to anything or anyone other than to oneself. A most sad, bad day for life.
A sick deer ran into a hospital, while her brethren are being slaughtered on the byways of America as they engage in wild runs away from the hunters. We passed numerous dead deer on the roads of Pennsylvania. What a metaphor for the crazed running, the useless ducks and dives that we take today in order to survive. It is laughable, if not so worthy of tears instead. We run for what appears to be the closest shelter and find ourselves deeper in the hidden muck inside, struggle to get out, and only get deeper into the mess. We then look around frantically, frenzied, seeking aid from wherever. Above it all we now see the head of one presuming extra privilege, extra safety for believers, poses as a return to sanity, to order, and even as a branch is extended to us, the muck and mire grow thicker, never truly losing their grasp upon us.
A former general states re COVID that "Society's very existence could have been threatened." Correct other than for that one word - could. No could there, rather a 'was', most definitely, threatened and remains so today. We have lost all sense of society, of possibilities, of talk rather than confrontation. We have lost that sense of honor, of representing the true needs of constituents; instead one votes for the powerful, the one who frightens us the most. Even if totally diametrically opposed to the truly needed by the district's population. We do not even bother anymore to ask for believers in magic. That is gone. Tinkerbelle lays dying in front of our eyes and still hands.
"if...you’re not part of the solution and you’re potentially part of the problem. I feel very strongly: This is a case where responsibility to the whole trumps a person’s right to do whatever they want."
That is what we need to remember, to etch in our understandings of reality We need to be grateful, more so, for what was, what remains, and what can be, if only.... We need to return to the unity of a UNITED States of America. We have room for all within our borders. Natural American traits will prevail - if we allow them to. We will regain our faith in the possibilities ahead of us, before us, challenging us, but oh so possible, if only....
If you believe in fairies, please clap. Now. Loud and strong.
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