Author: Sandy Webster

This morning I printed off my Happy Holidays cards and tipping in the prints. By next year it might be a requirement that all cards must say “Merry Christmas”. Evangelicals can now make demands without worrying about civil rights that were automatically taken for granted by non-evangelicals. I really hate this new country! Someone in the safety of living in Australia told me to “not let the bullies win.” She needs to understand that these are not “bullies” but the people my neighbors chose to control our lives. Seeing the key states turn red said all there is to say. We will be a country controlled by a sex offending felon and as many equally deplorable people that he can assign to positions of power. The price of groceries, gas, most consumer goods will be the least of their worries once “their hero” takes office. Not for me. I am living in a foreign land and have said goodbye to America. At eighty years of age, I have lived the best period America had to offer. My financial advisor advised me this week that my assets are safe for the next four years, and beyond. I am grateful for that. I am also happy that my children have safe jobs and an eye to what they will have to endure for the foreseeable future.

So here are my cards, ready for signatures, messages and postage.

Just before going to bed the other night, I saw this across the road.

I miss the moon from my old place. Nothing stays the same! Before I would call these changes, “new adventures” . Now I call them inconveniences!

Just saw a neighbor go by and called her back for some wine. I will continue later…..

Well, that was lovely. Now I have moved on to a red. She wanted to see all the pincushions of the trump movement. I don’t have it in me to do his latest cadre of sycophants. I consider his sycophants all those who put him back in office. Way too many to waste time on.

But here is where I escape along with audiobooks.

I now have at least ten more pages penciled in of moths and butterflies. It is so calming to work in this book. Seven more pages and I can turn the book over and do birds and their nests. Tomorrow I will compose a letter to the editor of the local newspaper. It is disappointing how many people prefer to keep their views to themselves. Still afraid of repercussions. At this time in our history, does it really matter? I would rather speak up than let others assume I am in agreement with the new world order.

And yesterday I went with a friend to the Tree Decoration Display in the local court house.

Every tree was decorated by a different local business. And everyone looked the same. There must have been a sale on flocked trees. Each looked like it was from a department store display. Nothing unique that spoke of the individual businesses. We gave our voting tickets to a kid who had his heart set on a packaged Grinch tree. I met “Santa”. He was a good looking Santa without the red suit but terrific vest and boots/hat. The odd thing was that he assured me that in 32 years of doing this he only had two complaints for preaching the gospel. Before I could say, “Make it three.”, I left. I thought Santa was to only be concerned about naughty or nice. But no, now you have to be a believer in the gospel.

I am worn down.

Til later….

A nice sky two evenings ago. I am taking the time to look at the beauty of things, but now only see how temporary it is. I read a meme recently that said, “I no longer look for the good in people. I look for the truth.” Yesterday morning while having coffee with the guys, one of them said to me, “Well Biden is still there in office, isn’t he?” And then he said something about China “bringing us Covid”. I responded, “Oh, for Chrissakes!” and left shortly after. I need to rein it in. Today he wanted me to know about Delta Airline sale on round trips to Australia for only $719. I told him I preferred Qantas and it was likely a poor idea for any American to arrive in Australia right now or for some time to come.

I came home and wrote poetry that I will take tomorrow to the second poetry gathering of the month. Someone reminded me I still can use poetry to put my feelings into. Another friend suggested I do an artwork about where the ignorance and greed of this country has placed the world. All I could think of is cut strings burning in a pile. So, maybe some other time.

For now it is poetry. This one for tomorrow.

The Scholar

The sun has gone down,

no longer casting shadows

across the desk where he

remains seated,

 

surrounded by books,

collected, read,

and shelved,

dust suppressing their words.

 

Glancing around he marvels

at all he must have learned,

then lost,

when the sun went down.

 

Actually I think scholars will become a thing of the past. We have become too ignorant and lazy to understand their value to society. I live in a different country now. Not a new country, but a dusty old place, smelling of death and destruction dragged out and presented as worthy. It is waved about as a fresh idea by the slimiest and most empty of human beings. And yet this new country loves them. Adores them. And waits for their lives to improve on the destitution of others.

I had an unbelievable sadness putting the name, Walz in the bin. Wasn’t he just the most decent man to come along and make so many of us feel good?

So, my blog discussions about politics will end with this one. All of that is covered in the news media I no longer watch or listen to. And that has felt good, very good.

So this week I tried printing the rabbit.

I did not like the background, so carved it away taking the top of the bag with it. Oops!

I tore up enough papers to print and test. Then got back to it.

Once those were finished, I went back to my butterflies and moths.

Today I penciled in several more pages to keep me busy.

I am waiting for my financial advisor to ring me back today with assurances that I will be able to continue with few adjustments to my assets in the coming storm of the years I have left.

The other night there was a neighborhood party…the launch of a friends book. I had a chance to meet a neighbor there was little time to visit with. Many in here work from home, so unless you happen to be walking at the same time, you miss each other. I liked her right off and asked her to come over the next day. It was a delightful four hours. She was telling me that she was trying to make zebra striped candles but just could not figure out how. I told her how many years ago, Gwen Diehn and I melted crayons and tried to do the same thing. We wanted candles like the wonderful woman in Africa who, out of necessity, got a booming business going making similarly colored candles. I had bought many, and then because we convince ourselves that there is no occasion special enough to use them, they stayed in a drawer. I opened the drawer and said, “How about these?” And talked her into taking two pairs home with her. Many more are still in that drawer with several of Lee’s bees wax ones. I hope she uses them so I can give her more…just to see the joy on her face.

I told her that when the despair of this country gets too much, just come see me, and we will open an Aussie red and change the subject.

All for now.

Til later….

This is the evening of November 4th 2024. The promise of a red sky at night.

I waited and kept busy on the fifth.

Even made a new soup, polenta with cannellini beans and spinach.

And then this the following morning.

I took down my Harris signs before my trump neighbors were up to watch me. I threw my political pin into a basket out of sight. I tried to breathe at chair yoga. And along with this image, I posted the following on Facebook in answer to all the people from other parts of the world who asked me “why?”

11/6/2024

For those of you around the world…I am sorry.

Like many of us here in the not-so-United States, it was shocking to see the direction this country has chosen for not only the next four years, but long, long afterward.

This morning I have said goodbye to the land I grew up in, to the security of knowing we were special, we stood for principles, and a way of life guided by integrity and a decency that supported our long-standing democracy.

I gave my American flag away in 2016. Under the selfless leadership of the past four years, I almost, almost wanted to buy a new one.

I likely will not live through these next four years and the time it will take to come back to who we were. The last thing I want to flaunt is an American flag.

I now grieve with almost half this country along with the rest of the world for what we have done.

 

And then went to a bar for lunch with a friend who was also in shock. I schooled the owner on how to make a Bloody Mary with protein so we could call it a healthy lunch.

Then yesterday a new entry on Facebook in response to even more shock coming in from around the world.

11/7/2024

The grief has subsided. What helped, really helped, is convincing myself that I will be living in a foreign country from here on out.

This is a place that over half the population chose to make America, not great, but different. Not a place of hope. Not a place that recognizes the value of women. Not a place that will lend a helping hand to those suffering. But a place of misogyny, crudeness, and spite.

This is the new America, forged on the blind ignorance and grievance of a majority willing to be led by manipulation rather than use their own eyes or think for themselves.

I plan to adjust accordingly and spend what time I have left in a country that is less than America. Much, much less.

 

Then to my dermatologist where he had Trump coffee table books on display. (I checked to see if he was sporting gold high tops, and no, he wasn’t. At least not yet.) Also in his office waiting room was a man in a Trump hat saying a friendly hello to me. He recognized me from the gym and wanted to introduce himself, Tony DeSantis. I asked if he was related. No, but from Florida. He was very congenial and I worried that he was going to say, “How about that election!” in the same way people say, “How about those Dodgers!” He did not. We are now on a first name basis. Me, Tony, and several of the over 50% of those living in what used to be my country.

All of my news channels are now laying dormant in the television as are news feeds on my phone. It no longer matters. This is not my place to care anymore.

After another Bloody Mary lunch at the same bar, I went off to poetry. I put two poems on one page because they are related and only three weeks apart. The second I wrote the day after waking up to a new world.

 

11/7/2024

 

Here and There

 I will stay over here

  on the side of knowing

  that those over there

  have made the wrong choice.

 

And then this:

 

No Longer Caring       

Such a strange feeling,

this complete emptiness.

No tide within

pulling me toward

a need to feel

the passions of caring.

 

I am beyond empty.

 

Reconciled to this place below

the surface of believing.

Here I can let go,

release my grip

on the hope that others

cared as much.

 

The cats are oblivious to how much comfort they are.

And I am ready to spend the weekend working on getting good prints from my wood cut.

I had a dream last night and woke to commit it to memory.

An elderly couple who were good friends of ours came back from Heaven to help new owners of their house decorate for the holidays. They brought their favorite libation. When they arrived at their old house where I, my husband and kids were waiting with the new owner, my old friend broke down in tears at what was happening to her old home. The new owner was smiling and chatting about where to hang the ornaments. My friend sobbed. I poured her a drink and it did not help. The new owner, I think, represents the new order of things, not realizing how much she needed the assistance of those from before. All six of us turned and walked away from the new owner still asking in a very cheerful voice how to do something. We each realized that we can no longer help. It is her place now.

Wasn’t that a telling dream for some time after midnight in our new life?

I need to take a walk around the block and maybe ink my block up for a test print.

Til later….

 

It was a very busy week. Patrick came down to take me to Asheville. So sad to have to drive past the south end and see so much damage to Biltmore Village on the river. Favorite shops and restaurants devastated, We had a quick lunch at a place that gets its water from the World Central Kitchen organization for cooking and serving. Food was very good at this bakery/wine shop called Mother.

While Patrick worked remotely from here, I drew and painted.

Doodled around with Christmas card ideas…..

Boiled my stitched rocks in paste….

I like the feel of them and will do more when my fingers rest.

Now I am working on a carved woodblock Christmas card.

Patrick went home yesterday and took my old book shelves with him. They are now in Amy’s house. He also took a carton of children’s books and craft books that my work was included in. Some way back to the Lark Publication days.

I am going to make a soup for dinner…polenta, cannellini beans, spinach, garlic and parmesan. The picture looked good so I wrote down the recipe. Normally I would fix this for dinner. garlic crostini on spinach with poached egg and some scattered bacon bits.

We are completely worn out with the election coming up. There is such an abundance of ignorance and grievance from a large portion of our country. There is no reasoning with them when all they hear is an abhorrent little man and his petty, vindictive sycophants. We will all be glad to see it over and of course are hoping to see the end of Trump.

I am going to go have a wine…maybe with a neighbor,,,

Til later, when it is a better, more hopeful time.