The inauguration is going to happen. People are still sniping on Facebook trying to make points against someone else's equally polarized snipe. This administration might stay around for eight years or eight days. It all seems to be in the hands of a distractible circus juggler on a high wire.
What will not change is that parents will still be taking walks with their children, helping them with homework, worrying about coming home late. We will still need to feed our families and to share our love. The hungry need food. The homeless need shelter. The sick need healing, the dying comfort. A government can make that easier or harder, a priority or an obstacle. What they cannot do is to make it disappear. Life will go on with all the daily minutiae and dramas that absorb us. Some of our jobs may be a bit harder with the changes we see coming. Sharing the American pie and dream may be made be more difficult. But, life will go on. How it goes depends on us.
Suspend reality and basic common sense as I invite you to Eastern StandardTime Hospital...
Many of you have shown interest in my job as a Mental Health Associate. This is probably due to the serious life-saving work that my fellow co-workers and I accomplish. Hey, coffee doesn't drink itself! However, many of you have only heard half of the story. The truth is, there is a very serious contest conducted every month at ESH. The winner of said contest gets their very own picture taken which is placed in the monthly newsletter along with their answers to 16 hard hitting questions.
I've never been let in on the secret details of how such employees are chosen. I have often questioned the validity of this award due to the fact that I have never been nominated. Ludicrous, I know. I imagine that there must be some sort of electoral college establishment involved in the selection process. This would explain how I could have possibly lost 47 months in a row. Like Al Gore, I'm winnin…
3 AM, the night is absolutely still;
Snow squeals beneath my skis, plumes on the turns.
I stop at the canyon’s edge, stand looking out
Over the Great Valley, over the millions —
In bed, drunk, loving, tending mills, furnaces,
Alone, wakeful, as the world rolls in chaos.
The quarter moon rises in the black heavens —
Over the sharp constellations of the cities
The cold lies, crystalline and silent,
Locked between the mountains.
Please note: art by Nancy Boudreaux @ Offerings. blog.nboudreaux.com