Today is my late father-in-law’s birthday, which was referred to in the family as “beggars’ night.” I’d never heard the term before. The in-laws explained that the name derives from the practice of some trick-or-treaters to show up before Halloween to beg for candy prior to the holiday proper.
It occurred to me that for the first time in six years, I should probably pick up some candy to give out since we’re temporarily living in town while waiting for the flooded river to crest and then recede so we can go home. The latest prediction is that it will crest today, with water levels starting to slowly drop over the weekend. We figure it will be two or three weeks before our road is passable again.
Meanwhile, it will be a novelty to have trick-or-treaters again since it isn’t a thing at home, where residences are mostly gated woodsy compounds. At our previous home before we moved to the swamp, I enjoyed seeing children in cute costumes and marveled at the cheekiness of teens and young adults who showed up expecting handouts despite being more or less grown. So that’s something to look forward to.
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Overall, we don’t love living in town. It’s more convenient by far — it’s nice to be able to run to the grocery store without having to traverse 1.5 miles of a suspension-bashing dirt road. We had a pizza delivered the other day, and it was wonderful to so easily conjure dinner.
That said, it turns out we not only miss the natural beauty of the woods but also the privacy. Here in town, there’s a picnic table in our temporary refuge’s backyard where we sit in the evening, and we feel so exposed, being in clear view of passersby and the inhabitants of surrounding houses.
I’m sure I would get used to it again if we had to stay here permanently. I’ve lived in the center of much larger cities before. But it feels foreign to us now, as if we were a pair of hillbillies driven from our native holler and marooned in central Chicago. We want to go home!
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I’m still feeling calm about the election; I think we’re going to win. I’ve mostly avoided the media except for occasionally scanning headlines and reading an article or two. I see no point in keeping up because nobody knows anything. This has always been true, but for some reason, this time I’m able to act on that and not obsess. It’s done wonders for my mood!
One media item I did see this morning: according to The Hill, Harris drew a large crowd at yesterday’s speech at the Ellipse, about 75,000 people. That crowd size will frost the shitgibbon’s nasty orange flakes, as will the VP’s theme, which is that it’s time to turn the page on the chaos, drama and division of the Orange Error.
One reason I think we’ll win is that I feel confident millions share that wish, even if they’re not affiliated and pay little attention to politics. It’s been an ugly time, reflecting the grotesque persona of the carnival barker at the center of the maelstrom, and we’re goddamn sick of it.
Well, lots of us are, anyway. My sister and I were talking about that the other day, and for the thousandth time, we expressed our bewilderment at the durability of Trump’s support. There are the obvious reasons: panic about maintaining status in a changing society, racism, sexism, xenophobia, anti-trans hysteria, etc.
But I think an ugly impulse to foment drama is an underrated component. We know people who are like that in their personal relationships — drama llamas who aren’t happy unless they’re stirring up a shitstorm.
Trump is a perfect vessel for expressing that impulse in politics. Enough, already. Enough. It’s time to torpedo the garbage barge with ballots, and I believe we will.
Open thread.
