Threnody
Two days from now, an event will change our country and the world
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Threnody is a heavy word. It is a lament, a dirge, a funeral wail. This word describes my dread at the inauguration of the 47th president on Monday.
I know I am not alone in dreading the incoming administration. Will they take a meat-axe to the country, chopping away any remaining fragments of kindness, dedication, compassion, care or commitment in public life? Will the already shrunken vestiges of a common understanding of decency in our once great nation be swept clean away?
Signs of hope
Portlanders are endless optimistic, regardless.
Word of the year
I’m a little late in choosing a word as my talisman for 2025. Actually, I chose this word in early January but it seemed apropos to announce it here, at this precise point in time. The word is “trepidation,” which connotes feeling fearful, expecting a disaster, walking on eggshells.
Other Substack writers who like to set goals have chosen more uplifting words for 2025, like “abundance” or “balance” or “forgive.”
But the incoming administration is not going to be about balance or abundance or forgiveness. It promises retribution, repression and regression.
I look forward . . . no, I approach the rest of 2025 with trepidation.
Poem for the week
The coming days
I’m not sure what will happen This moment, the next Crowded with meaning Or empty and gone. Move moment to moment What other way is there? Time is clean, we are soiled Burdened with memory. We’ve been there before, But never like this. Unravel the memories, The changes start now.
A meditation for the times
Troubling outward concerns can also lead us to turn inward. Meditation may help. It can’t hurt. Here is a start:
Make a space now, Just a few quiet minutes. Relax everything you can think of, From your brow to your knees, Your elbows to your spleen. Let thoughts rock you gently, Or no thoughts at all. Thoughts are for later. Now all is peace. Say to yourself: peace. Peace I bring to myself, Peace that comes to me. Thank you, Spirit. When I am calm, Nothing can harm me. Bad things may come, But not here, not now. Now I am whole, Warm, safe and comfortable. Full of no thought, Nothing to fear. Ancient words, Ancient wisdom, How the soul spoke To Julian of Norwich: “All shall be well, And all shall be well, And all manner of things Shall be well.” Refreshed, waking slowly, Now I move forward, Clear-eyed in the world, Ready to move. All shall be well, At least for this day. At least for this moment. This pinpoint in time.
Constitution
A new recitation
In 1963, my family moved to Sioux Falls, S.D., where my mother, a nurse anesthetist, went to work for a hospital. I started eighth grade in the middle of the year.
At Patrick Henry Junior High, we began the day with a recitation. Not the Pledge of Allegiance, but a long, strange quotation that I didn’t recognize when I started there. I stumbled along for a few weeks until I got it.
It was the Preamble to the Constitution of the United States. I am grateful to the Sioux Falls school system for requiring us to say it every day. It has stuck with me.
Here it is in the original version:
We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.
Part of my life
I love the Preamble, and I live with it every day. For instance, I recite it to myself three times through each time I brush my teeth. It’s the might behind my clean molars.
Beyond that, I believe in its promise.
Whose Constitution is it?
I doubt that the man who will take the oath of office as president on Monday will grasp or even recognize these words from the document he will swear to uphold and protect.
But I know these words. I also know that the Constitution is in many ways a flawed document. Still, the aspirations of the Preamble are so palpable, so right, that I remain proud to be an American even in these very dark days.
A toast to what’s ahead
My breve latte is all drunk up at Coava Coffee’s shop on Hawthorne. Eat, drink and be merry, because tomorrow—or Monday—we will have a new government.
What we can do
Over at the Guardian, a trustworthy, if British, source of real news, opinion writer Hamilton Nolan has a specific thing Americans can do to try to blunt the force of misdirected power from the new administration.
Simply, he writes, refuse to snitch. When the new government goons come to ask you about your neighbor or your employees, be like Sgt. Schultz (from the old TV series “Hogan’s Heroes”): keep repeating, “I see nothing! I hear nothing! I know nothing!”
Nolan writes:
So stop asking yourself what you can to to help your nation this year. Channel your nervous energy into keeping your mouth shut.
Nolan has one exception to his caveat. If you know a wealthy person who’s cheating on their taxes, them you can inform on.
Keep calm
In laying out these thoughts, I have not offered any brilliant or original insights on what lies ahead for us. I have simply wished to share with you, dear readers, some of my trepidation and to acknowledge implicitly any associated thoughts and feelings that you might wish to share.
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Bike racks
A break from the heavy news of the day.
The goats in these bike racks outside the Market of Choice at Southeast 11th Avenue and Belmont are a reference to “goat blocks,” the vacant lots in the neighborhood that supported a small herd of goats before the land was developed into apartments and the market. I wrote more about this delicious history in the posting “Shocks and boats and billygoats” last June. Check out the cute goat photos there.
I found another bike rack outside the Adventis Credit Union office on Southeast Woodstock. I like the handlebar effect. Or you could hitch your ride to the old, humble blue bike rack at the left.
Clarification
Last week, in my memory of past Christmases, I wrote that what we know as clementines now were once called mandarin oranges. Actually, in the ’50s and ’60s, we called those miniature orange citruses “tangerines.”
I remember in the 1970s reading in Gourmet magazine that a Tangerine was a resident of Tangier, Morocco. The magazine put its chips on “clementine.”
There are subtle differences among tangerines, mandarins and clementines that I don’t feel inclined to go into. I’m not sure produce managers make a distinction. All these citrus are small, thin-skinned and easy to peel. Clementines are seedless.
Oh, my darlin’!
Final say
One last poem before the inauguration. . . .
When it’s all over
When it’s all over Lavender will still grow, Peonies and hellebores will hang their heads, Roses thrust their thorns at you. Tadpoles will grow into frogs, Although many species are gone now. Sparrows will welcome the dawn Fewer this year, though, than last. Nature will triumph, regardless, Humans have less of a chance. Trundling to our own destruction? Maestro, continue the dance!
Prayer
It is always appropriate to offer a prayer in times of trauma. This one is from last week’s service at the Episcopal church I attend:
Lead us from despair to hope, From fear to trust. Let peace fill our hearts, Our world, our universe. Let us dream together, Pray together, Work together To build one world Of peace and justice for all. —30— Until next week If you enjoyed this post, click on ♡ to let me know. Every time someone likes a post, I get an email notification; that gives me a chance to remember and cherish that individual. I welcome comments and wish there were more of them. They are not hard to write. Please leave one. I am notified when you comment, so I will be sure to see it.
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I am now going to memorize the Preamble!
Hey Fran- You gave me and my friend a lovely little card with your substack ( we were at Coava coffee both wearing the same hue of pink).
Today while cleaning my office I came across it- the business card. I had to moment of pause and joy to go and look to see if we made it to your substack. Which then lead me to spending some time reading your thoughts, exerperience and joy moments in January 2025. Sending you the best for Spring 2025 and hope that we run across paths again.