Tohickon Creek

Dial Tone – Day 899

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Cool Shot of the Moon Last Night (one night post full) – Photo: L. Weikel

Dial Tone

“Inspiration, don’t fail me now!” That’s what I’m sitting here thinking, and silently pleading, this evening. And yet? “The dial tone is strong in this one.” Yeah – that’s a mixed metaphor quote for all of you both old enough to remember dial tones and young enough (at heart, at least) to be a Star Wars fan.

I took a couple of photos today that could serve as fodder for a good post or two. But a couple of them just beg to be supported by at least a modicum of humorous or perhaps semi-clever prose, neither of which I have any hope of mining tonight.

The source of my dial tone tonight is sort of a sad commentary on the state of my post-pandemic physique. Apparently it doesn’t matter how many miles I walk every day, I’m nevertheless woefully out of shape.

Mowing the Lawn

Today was Karl’s and my official ‘First Mow of 2021.” Wow – I just did a search of my posts and discovered that I wrote about this ‘spring rite of passage’ two years ago to the day! And funnily enough, I sounded pretty tuckered out when I was writing two years, too.

I’m almost creeped out by the fact that I practically wrote the same post two years ago, lamenting how tired I was from the effort of mowing in spite of all our walking. So hmm. I guess maybe I can’t – or don’t need to – blame my exhaustion on Pandemic Physique. Perhaps it’s just the consequences of winter.

I’m going to take comfort in that. (I take it where I find it.)

Tohickon Reflections – Photo: L. Weikel

Brief Eagle Moment

On my way home from an obligation this afternoon, I stopped by the Tohickon to pay my respects. I brought the Spirit of the Tohickon a little treat that I shared with her. Crumbling a rice cake in my hand, I blew my intentions of love and gratitude for the wonder, serenity, and joy this body of water brings me so often. I talked to her a bit, wondering at how low her flow is already – and it’s only April.

I am feeling a little anxious over our water, to be honest.

As I was addressing the Spirit of the Tohickon and all the Beings that live within and around her, I was startled by the shadow that passed right over me and the whoosh whoosh of beating wings. Eagle graced me with its presence, stunning me with its beauty and size.

I only managed a single shot of it as it retreated downstream. Normally, I wouldn’t take a photo of a creature appearing when engaging in ceremony, but I wanted to share the magic with all of you.

Eagle Headed Downstream – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-212)

Return of Two Messengers – Day 882

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Osprey Surveying the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Return of Two Messengers

There must be something I need to reflect upon more deeply that connects 2019 and 2021 than I’m realizing. I find it peculiar that in the span of two short days I’ve now experienced the return of two messengers that I only saw for the first time ever in 2019.

As I mentioned in my recent post, until I awakened on my birthday in 2019, I’d never seen a Pileated Woodpecker ‘in the feather.’ And after that single, exciting sighting two years ago, where it pecked (I should say drilled) its presence into my awareness right outside my bedroom window, I’ve not seen another one. Until two days ago.

And wow – witnessing the dance of those two Pileateds up and down and round and round the two trees just behind my porch was an astonishing opportunity. It’s hard to believe they didn’t sense my presence; they hung around for close to half an hour, and all that while, I was moving around, trying to get the best photos and videos of them with my phone.

Imagine My Surprise

So it’s easy to imagine my surprise, then, when I drove by my beloved Tohickon Creek and stopped in the middle of the road. I was only driving past my favorite place to sit and write because the fisherpeople are still swamping the area and all the usual places I park along the bank were taken. I didn’t expect to see anything out of the ordinary, but I do try to keep an eye out for the occasional special appearance of a creature – winged or otherwise.

The cause for my abrupt stop in the middle of the one lane road was the majestic presence of an Osprey staring directly at me from across the creek. At first, the presence of brilliant white plumage made me think I’d spotted a Bald Eagle. But when I looked closer, I knew I’d never seen the white feathers all down the front of the chest of an eagle. And the ruff of white around its neck was so prominent, it almost looked like the ruffs sported by lords or other royal denizens from medieval times.

I had to check my bird app, and there it was, described in detail in my Peterson’s Field Guide app. “…Perched (ospreys) appear long-legged and often show a narrow white stripe between shoulders and body; their wingtips extend just beyond tail tip.”

The only other ospreys I’d ever seen before today had been flying overhead, once along the Delaware and the other along the Tohickon, but much further down the creek.

Two For Two

Making today’s sighting even more odd was the fact that, not 20 minutes later, I saw yet another osprey flying overhead as I drove down Route 611. I was miles away from the Tohickon at that point – so a double appearance within minutes of each other was…remarkable.

And to think: two years ago I saw one each of these heretofore rarely seen (by me) creatures. And this year, in the span of two days, I saw two of each of them.

I don’t know. Seems like a pattern that demands some attention.

Osprey Closeup – Photo: L. Weikel

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Tohickon Creek in April – Day 878

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Tohickon Creek in March! – Photo: L. Weikel

Tohickon Creek in April

I just realized something: I don’t have any photos taken of my beloved Tohickon Creek in April. At least I don’t have a single photo from April 2020 – and none so far this year, either. (I’ll have to make a point of remedying this situation!) I discovered this when I went looking for a recent photo to use of the creek and the latest one I could find was taken last week, on March 30th. Feeling resourceful, I thought, “OK, I’ll search my archive and try to find one from last April.” Nope.

The reason, I suspect, is because April is Trout Season in Pennsylvania, and the Tohickon, being stocked with trout, is a tremendous magnet for those who commune with nature in that manner. W’re thus routinely inundated with fisherpeople throughout the month of April.

Sounds of Nature

The reason I went searching for a photo of the Tohickon to begin with was because I wanted to write a little about an interesting article I read about how the sounds of nature soothe our anxious minds and make our lives better.

As you can read for yourself, the sounds of running water and birds are the soothers-in-chief. Not the slightest surprise to me. There are times when I visit my Tohickon, park in the little pull-off close to the bank of the creek, open my car window, and just close my eyes. Listening to her voice is a balm to my soul that’s almost indescribable.

And of course, I only wax rhapsodically about the birds around our house in practically every other post I write. Speaking of which, they’ve been pretty quiet lately – hungry brooding hawks, I suspect, having a somewhat chilling effect on the allure of our feeders. But even when they’re playing it safe and sticking close to their nests, their joyful songs inevitably resume after a short period of silence.

There is one creature, though, who’s lately been basking in the glory of the sounds of nature, the warmth of the sun, the inherent freedom of being outside without a harness, and the comfort of being surrounded by his humans.

Yes, sometimes Spartacus seems to have ‘the’ life.

Spartacus Enjoying the Sounds of Nature – Photo: L. Weikel

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What a Moon – Day 839

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Magical Moon – 27 Feb 2021 – Photo: L. Weikel

What a Moon

Mmm mmm mmm. I’m so glad we made ourselves walk tonight! We’d missed our chance to walk during the bright, enticing, and totally unexpected sunshine. And by the time the opportunity to walk arose, we were more inclined to hunker down with some stuffed shells, a big salad, and the tv clicker. But no. We pushed ourselves. And oh baby, what a moon awaited.

Quite honestly, sometimes 90% of the effort it takes to take a walk some days is mustering the effort to get our stuff on (including Spart’s coat and harness) and walk out the door. Getting out the door. Who knew that would be our biggest accomplishment some days?

It’s true though. Even living in a drafty old house that’s not hermetically sealed off from the elements, we can still easily find ourselves totally out of touch with the true state of the elements. For instance, after dragging my heels over readying myself for a lap around the ‘walk about,’ I was exhilarated when I stepped onto the porch and took a deep breath of refreshingly cool – but not frigid – air.

Full Virgo Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

Anticipation

I’ll admit part of the impetus that got me out the door was the anticipation of seeing the full Virgo moon rise above the fields along our route. And she did not disappoint.

As we started out on our evening sojourn, all we could see was a bright glow in the eastern sky. A quarter of a mile into our journey, though… Bam! There she was.

And I must confess: I’m going to have to do some research to see if there’s a trick to help me sneak up on the moon when she rises so huge and pregnant with promise, for it seems no matter what I do or how I try, I can never replicate her magnificence. She either looks too bright and big (thus resembling the sun, which not only dishonors her tremendous reflective gifts but also conceals her lovely craters and landscape in flashy distraction) or she appears entirely too teeny tiny on the horizon. I cannot seem to find the perfect balance that does her justice.

Full Virgo Moon Rising – Photo: L. Weikel

 The Quest Continues

I know the temperatures today were mild and significant melting occurred. For one thing, the veritable mountain of sunflower seed shells underneath each of our feeders make it look like we were carpet bombed by bags of Agway seed.

But for all the melting going on elsewhere, the fields seem to be immune to the swarthy glances of the sun. In fact, the unmistakable sheen of a crisp coating of ice glistened on all the fields we passed. The moon’s countenance, of course, was the designated shimmer.

Moonbeams on Ice Field – Photo: L. Weikel

Silence Reigned

Once I exhausted my efforts to capture the magic of the moon tonight, I settled into the simple pleasure of just being, and walking, with Karl. After about a mile, we noticed how the only sound we heard was the rushing flow of the Tohickon far below the rocky cliffs along our route. No owls hooting. Not even the rustle of a single creature in the brush. Silence, broken only by the voice of the melting snow merging with the creek as it tumbles and whooshes toward its merger with the Lenape Sipu – the Delaware River.

Lovely.

(T-272)

Stalked By Spirit – Day 791

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Bald Eagle over the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Stalked By Spirit

Well, let’s face it. I think if any of us are going to be stealthily pursued by anyone or anything, getting stalked by Spirit is unquestionably the best option.

I wrote the other day, last Tuesday as a matter of fact, that I’d been feeling pretty anxious over, well, lots of things, but in particular the Senate run-off elections in Georgia taking that day. (Is it even possible that not six days have gone by since that election?)

As we know, a great victory for democracy was won that day (at least in my opinion); two victories, actually, although one wasn’t officially ‘called’ until the next – exponentially more momentous – day.

Writing in my journal as I sat beside my beloved Tohickon Creek, I felt an oppressive sense weighing me down. A sense of foreboding. Or perhaps it was a feeling that I – we – were on the brink of being forsaken by our better angels. My outlook dramatically shifted when I caught sight of the bald eagle perched at the surface of the creek. I felt heard. Seen. Acknowledged – somehow reassured that all would be well.

Bald Eagle ‘in’ the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Two Days Later

Two days later, just this past Thursday, Karl and I took a walk in the middle of the day. Naturally, our conversation was consumed by the events we’d helplessly witnessed unfolding the day before, before our very eyes, as insurgents attempted a coup at our nation’s capitol.

Suddenly, a gorgeous bald eagle appeared from behind a massive pine tree we were approaching. The surprisingly mewling, creaky cry of this raptor, which is so different than the distinct shriek of a red-tailed hawk, registered in the back of my mind as our faces swept up to catch sight of it wheeling and turning right above our heads, not more than 15 feet above us.

We were buzzed by a bald eagle. Only two days after I’d had that magical sighting right on the creek.

Yesterday

I returned to the creek again yesterday (Saturday). I needed a little time to listen to the soothing voice of the Tohickon and write in my journal again. Digesting the details of the events that are unspooling before our very eyes is no easy task. Making sense of the reactions of both our lawmakers and our fellow citizens is growing increasingly difficult. Figuring out our place and what we can do to shape the outcome of these times we’re living in is an essential task.

The day was overcast again and there was precious little animal or bird activity. A ‘V’ of seven Canadian geese flew west, upstream. But that was it. Nor did I expect anything. Everything felt dormant to me. In hiding. Withdrawn.

Eventually, I turned my car around and headed home. Just as I approached the bridge where I caught sight of the hawk four days before, I looked up. Wheeling in wide loops above me was the eagle. I swear, it’s the same one. But who knows? It’s certainly all within its territory.

I was able to pull over and snag a shot of it as it swooped in arcs above my head. Slowly, lazily, it wove its way downstream.

Three sightings in the span of six days. Yes, I can explain it away logically. I live within the territory of this bird. Of course I’m going to see it.

But I choose to believe there’s a bit more consciousness behind these encounters. A little bit more mystery, more intention, more connection.

Medicine Card Message

A couple sentences from the entry about Eagle (whose keyword is Spirit) from Medicine Cards* by Jamie Sams and David Carson:

“In learning to fiercely attack your personal fear of the unknown, the wings of your soul will be supported by the ever-present breezes which are the breath of the Great Spirit.

…

If you have been walking in the shadow of former realities, Eagle brings illumination. Eagle teaches you to look higher and to touch Grandfather Sun with your heart, to love the shadow as well as the light. See the beauty in both, and you will take flight like the Eagle.”

Hmm.

Three’s a charm. Perhaps it’s time to pay attention. Maybe stop walking in the shadow of former realities. Perhaps it’s time to really and truly start paying attention to Spirit’s teachings.

*affiliate link

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Unmoored – Day 786

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Eagle on the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Unmoored

I’ll admit it: I was on edge all day. It wasn’t even truly conscious. I just felt a vague unease, an inability to settle down and focus on anything. I tried taking a break and visiting my refuge: the Tohickon Creek. Even there, I felt a bit unmoored. I even noticed and commented to myself that everything was shades of brown – and not a bird or an animal in sight.

Today, of course, is the Senate run off in Georgia. The stakes in that election are monumental. They literally stand to change the course of our country’s trajectory, and possibly even our future as a country as way we know it. That’s a huge responsibility.

And then, even just sitting at the creek, I became aware of the shenanigans afoot in Pennsylvania’s Senate. Occurring prior to tomorrow’s meeting of both chambers of Congress, I can see that this is just setting the stage for more outrageous behavior that will rip at the core of our democracy. As a Pennsylvanian, I am incensed with the behavior of our Republican led Senate.

Bereft

As I sat writing in my journal at the creek late this afternoon, I felt bereft. I want to have hope, but sometimes I just feel overwhelmed by the cynicism and disinformation being spewed into our discourse. It’s overwhelming and threatens to drown us all.

After expressing myself on my journal’s pages, I decided I needed to get back to the house and take affirmative steps to make things better in my little corner of the world. It felt like the only way forward in that moment.

As I turned my car around to return home, I groused that I felt I alone and definitely unheard. It felt strange that not even a woodpecker or duck, not even a sparrow had crossed my path as I sat beside the Tohickon, listening to her voice.

That’s when the white caught my eye. I stopped the car in the middle of the road, grabbed my phone and got out.

Yes.

The Eagle was sitting on a branch poking out of the water streaming by in a cocoa colored flow. I took a few photos, and switched to video. S/he turned, looked straight at me, and took off, extending its gigantic wings to skim upstream about four feet above the surface of the water. About four ducks freaked out and joined it in flight, acting as startled wingmen.

I felt heard.

Just In Case

I jumped back in the car and resumed my trek home. Not 1,000 feet later, just as I started to cross the bridge that spans my Tohickon, a Red-Tailed Hawk caught my attention, staring at me from a towering sycamore.

Yeah. Just in case I felt unheard – Spirit reached out to reassure me.

“Have faith,” Hawk whispered.

I do.

Red-Tailed Hawk – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-325)

Immersed in Nature – Day 692

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Photo: L. Weikel

Immersed in Nature

I hope you had a chance to get outside today to take in the brilliance of this early October perfection. Oh my goodness, from the crisp clarity of the atmosphere to the leaves on the trees just beginning to tease of the palette to come, today was most definitely a day to spend as immersed in nature as possible.

I’ll admit, at the moment I have about four running ‘to do’ lists ebbing and flowing between my Day-Timer (yeah, I’m a pen-and-paper list maker) and my journal and even the backs of a couple of envelopes. I’ll also admit to being a tad obsessed with tracking the ongoing drama and cascade of disinformation emanating from the Administration.

In the Cards

I made an effort to listen to the Medicine Cards* I chose this morning: Deer with Grouse underneath. Deer, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, urges ‘gentleness’ as a primary message. Grouse has a lot to do with motion and encourages us to pay attention to how and why we move about in our lives.

A factor crucial to crossing off a few of the things on my lists required me to run out to an art supply store about 45 minutes away. It’s weird to me how different it feels now to pick up and go to the store. There’s an undercurrent of stress to it, which surprises me each time I encounter that tension and identify it. Traveling to places where there are a lot of people walking around has an effect on me now that I honestly never would’ve dreamt of a year ago.

After I secured a small tool that I hope will solve all my current creative issues (I’ll find out tomorrow), I noticed how edgy I was feeling. I was driving home but knew I could not go home until I made a much-needed pit stop at the Tohickon. I needed to honor the main card I’d chosen (Deer) and be gentle with myself – especially after running around doing errands and dealing with people (Grouse).

Cascade of Leaves – Photo: L. Weikel

At the Creek

I pulled up to my favorite spot, where, depending upon the depth of the creek on any given day I can walk out into the middle of the flow and sit on a boulder or I can just lower my windows and stay in the car, watching the water stream past only yards away from me. Today I chose to remain in my car and write in my journal. There’s so much going on both in the outside world and in my own inner life that giving myself permission to simply honor it all by recording it felt like a gentle indulgence.

At one point, a huge gust of wind came and swirled through the upper branches of the trees lining the Tohickon. The noise created was hard to describe – far, far more than a shushing and yet with overtones or perhaps undertones of birdsong. But then I realized, looking up into the sky that there were hundreds and possibly thousands of leaves cascading through the air. There was an entire layer of leaves that did not look like they’d come from any of the trees near me that were definitely being carried by winds aloft. I had to squint to make sure they were in fact leaves and not a flock of tiny migrating birds.

I tried to take a photo but it doesn’t even remotely capture the magic – not even when I try to zoom in so you can see the leaves a little better.

Photo: L. Weikel

Deer Again

Later, Karl and I took one of our longer walks and encountered a field full of deer. I took it as a good sign that they seemed to be completely at ease with us as we walked along the road right beside them. (Granted, the deer around here are a rather entitled lot, as was evidenced the other day when two walked into our driveway and started munching on our hostas.) But I also know they pick up on our energy and it’s not uncommon for them to bolt if our energy is too jagged for their liking.

So all in all, I feel as though – at least for this afternoon – I successfully navigated my little tributary of the treacherous waters that come with living in the midst of a pandemic, extraordinary economic strife, and an unprecedented assault on our democracy (to name a few stressors affecting all of us) and managed to find some calm.

I cannot thank the gentle spirit of Tohickon Creek and the winds aloft enough for sweeping my head and heart free.

Deer in Field 3 Oct 2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

*affiliate link

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Catch My Breath – Day 682

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Tohickon – Near and Far – Photo: L. Weikel

Catch My Breath

I had to stop at my sanctuary today. As so many of you know, Tohickon Creek is one of my primary sources of healing and solace. I feel love within its flow. My heart knows peace when I allow my eyes to drink in her yielding ripples. So in spite of the myriad obligations on my ‘to do’ list today, I physically took myself to this font of life in order to catch my breath.

The daily onslaught never ceases. We’re bombarded with outrageous conduct and insane accusations about institutions that we know are safe, reliable, and trustworthy. We’re gaslit and fear-stoked relentlessly in a cynical attempt to delegitimize our trust in the foundations of our society so that – finally admitted to out loud today – he can simply ‘remain’ in power.

Tohickon – ripples – Photo: L. Weikel

Here It Is

In case you missed it, if you want to know what the Trump Republican game plan actually is this election season, you must read this article. Everyone needs to read this article because we must hunker down now and prepare a game plan. Proceeding as if this is anything close to a normal year and a normal election cycle is utterly insane and irresponsible.

Everything is at stake.

Meanwhile, Breonna Taylor is treated as if she never existed or, perhaps more accurately, her life didn’t matter. At all. As I saw one person put it, the grand jury in Louisville valued the drywall of her neighbors more than Breonna’s very life.

But as I mentioned in my post the other day, it is essential that we take care of ourselves and prepare. If the way I felt today – and the way I think I saw so many of the people I love and care about (I’m looking at all of you, in one way or another) feeling today – is any indication, we must redouble our efforts to feed our souls.

Now is the time for us to do whatever it is that brings us peace. And no, I don’t mean numbing ourselves, tempting as that may be. Because that stresses our bodies. Numbing ourselves ultimately breaks down our immune systems – and let’s face it, we need to be beefing those babies up. Why? Because WINTER IS COMING – in every sense of that phrase.

Until you can get yourself to your version of my Tohickon, I share these photos with you. Drink them in. Let them nourish and sustain your soul.

We need to stay alert, pay attention, but most importantly, take care of ourselves and each other.

Tohickon – Peaceful Reflection – Photo: L. Weikel

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Tropical Storm Isaias – Day 632

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Photo: L. Weikel

Wow. Well, I mentioned in last night’s post that here in Pennsylvania we’re not used to tropical storms maintaining their ferocity as they march into our area from the south or tornado warnings beeping out on our phones and warning us to ‘take appropriate cover.’ Enter Tropical Storm Isaias – yet another reason to wonder just what we did to so profoundly piss off 2020.

Who’d have imagined a tornado would touch down at  the hospital in our county seat of Doylestown? The storm ripped off part of the roof of the on-site daycare center, damaged another pavilion, and tossed about and upended six cars in the parking lot. And that’s just one instance among many reports of a devastating number of trees uprooted and creeks and other bodies of water blowing past their flood stages and inundating everything in their path.

And it does sound as if the full moon did indeed exacerbate the impact this storm had when it slammed into the North Carolina coast as a Category 1 hurricane last night. Storm surges have been devastating and well over 3.5 million households are without electricity. It’s all a bit hard to fathom – a tropical storm at the beginning of August.

Stress Eaters

Just after the height of the storm hit, I walked out onto our porch to take some photos of the storm water cascading across our property. As I stood there in the pouring rain, I was joined by Spartacus. Instead of acting fearful of the storm, he quite adorably seemed more concerned than anything else.

Spartacus – Storm Watcher – Photo: L. Weikel

Then I noticed something even odder. There were a bunch of birds at our feeders! That was pretty much the last thing I expected to see in the midst of the storm. Granted, the absolute worst had probably just peaked – but the rain was still pounding down and strong gusts of wind were whipping the willow behind our barn and making the rest of the trees dance very hard to keep up.

Yet there were these birds, crowding several of my feeders. My heart went out to them as I sort of chuckled to myself. I could relate. Clearly they were stress-eating; stuffing in as much as they could while the getting was good. Living for the moment.

Stress eaters – Photo: L. Weikel

Rampaging Tohickon

After the storm passed and bright sunshine made everything look and feel as though it’d just been power-washed, the after-effects were startling. The Tohickon overflowed its banks and was rapaciously engaged in transporting logs and all sorts of other bobbing doo-dads and detritus to the Delaware River.

Many roads were impassable, either as a result of flooded creeks and streams or massive trees giving up the ghost and dragging electrical wires down with them.

The Delaware practically had enough trees floating down it to qualify as a forest itself.

Tohickon Creek – Photo: L. Weikel

It’s Only August

While I’m profoundly grateful we were spared the worst of it, I have to admit, this does give me paust. It’s only August. That seems pretty darn early to me to be dealing with a storm of this magnitude. Given the attitude of 2020 so far, I don’t think I want to challenge worse – that’s for sure.

It’s kind of amazing to contemplate just how devastatingly effective Mother Earth is at putting us in our place. It doesn’t take much. We really are a vulnerable species when you get right down to it, which makes me wonder. Is that why we’re often such bullies when it comes to Nature?

I hope everyone is safe and dry. I’d say I hope you’re warm, too – but if you have no electricity, warm may not exactly be the state you prefer. I hope you’re safe, dry, and comfortable. Take good care of yourselves – and don’t forget to feed your birds.

Casualty of Tropical Storm Isaias – Photo: L. Weikel

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Early Night – Day 629

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Tohickon Creek – 1 August 2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

Early Night

I’m tired. I’m going to try to wrest an early night out of this Saturday evening.

The weather today was a classic August day: quite exquisite, if just a scootch on the warm and muggy side.

Karl and I took a short jaunt to the banks of the Tohickon Creek late this afternoon. We sat on rocks jutting out into the creek, dangling our feet in waters swollen by the torrents of rain that lashed our area late Thursday evening. The cooling comfort of the creek’s steady stream was a perfect complement to the pleasure of losing ourselves in our books.

As Karl approaches his birthday, he was delighted to recently discover an author whose work he can totally immerse himself in. (Double bonus for me – since now I know something he’ll love that I can get him for his birthday.)

Needed to Read

While I’m savoring the last few chapters of a novel, Ninth House,* dubbed as fantasy (but which actually feels more real-life than most would think…), I have to admit I fell down the rabbit hole and interrupted my ‘fantasy’ novel with Mary Trump’s Too Much and Never Enough*.

Because I am fascinated by what feels like an eternal quest to understand why people are the way they are and do what do, I’ll admit it: reading the stories in this book does shed some light on the forces that shaped our current president. His background is terribly sad in its own way. But as bad as the treatment may have been, it’s pretty obvious that the tendencies to react in the bizarrely cruel ways he did to his childhood were there from the very beginning.

I guess I’m saying that, approximately halfway through the book, I feel compassion for his dysfunction. But I’m also, at the same time, appalled that he was permitted to, as the author says, ‘fail up.’ Repeatedly. And continues to have his glaring inadequacies covered up or explained away or simply glossed over, all the while people, including children at the border, are literally paying for that dysfunction with their lives.

It’s funny; I sort of feel as though it’s my responsibility to at least try to understand him. Perhaps it’s a form of self-preservation. If we can somehow figure out his endgame, maybe we can somehow avoid the horrific ending to this debacle that’s barreling toward us.

But I’m sensing that’s not going to be achievable no matter how well we understand him. And that is terrifying.

Enjoy the beauty that surrounded us as we read.

Tohickon Creek (1 Aug 2020) Photo: L. Weikel

*affiliate link

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