Looking for inspiration for tonight's post, I scrolled through older ones, looking to see what I wrote around this time last year. Well, once again, divine providence--or sheer coincidence--steered me in the right direction. On January 10th, 2021, I uploaded my reactions to events that unfolded four days prior: the January Insurrection. It also included how people, thoughts, and events emerged in my life, intertwining and coalescing like eddies of insight at the right time and place. It has happened often to me. This past week, which harbored the one year anniversary of that shameful historic event, has been no exception.
(Not sure why, but I was inspired to search through the work of Russian painters. Through Google, I discovered Ivan Vladimirov. But I also found Vladimir Makovsky. And I could not decide between these two paintings.)
On New Year's Eve, news arrived of Betty White's death. It did not phase me much. But reading through people's reaction to it became the first eddy of an insight growing in my mind. A few days later, an NPR article appeared, concerning the death of another woman in her nineties. She was black, and not very famous. However, something infamous happened to her. Back in 1963, her daughter, along with three others, while using a bathroom in the basement of an Alabama church, were killed by a terrorist bombing. This woman, Maxine McNair, had the distinction of being the last surviving parent from among those four girls. With this news, my thoughts began taking shape.
Against these two stories, a less disturbing event occurred: my daughters' schools went all-virtual for the week in light of a steep rise in Covid-19 cases. The reaction among the local parents who shared their feelings on Facebook about the decision, was astonishing and absurd. Yet, it was also illuminating, and it fed into the troubled pools of analysis that were collecting in my mind.
Then arrived the penultimate anniversary of that nefarious historical event. It came and went without my commenting on it either on Facebook or my blog. I will not address it now, except to acknowledge a regret in not having shared something on January 6, 2022. The importance of that day, combined with that remorse, a whirlpool now consumed my brain.
As the weekend arrived, Facebook shared with me two pieces of information. First, the memories section reminded me of an arrogant comment I had made eleven years ago to this day. It concerned how the political scene unfolding at the time was far less violent, nasty, irrational, and counterproductive than those in our past--we would do well not to overreact. That admonishment did not age well. Second, a dear former co-worker posted a personal update. Reading it, I teared up. His words reminded me that I had lost touch.
Finally, and ironically, the two people, whom I mentioned in that January 10, 2021 blog post, once again said the right thing at the proper time, a year later. And so, the troubled waters of my mind calmed and collected into a single river of thought. It now flows forth looking for a final destination.
My goal this week is to straighten it all out, and present it an upcoming blog post.
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