Bright Lights in a Dark World
I've been doing my best to avoid watching news since last November. I'm mostly successful, but that darn twosome of Rachel Maddow and Lawrence O'Donnell are hard to resist. But even that is too much. Just like their counterparts at FOX News, they keep their ratings up by appealing to the revulsion people feel for the other side and the hope that their side is on the verge of turning the tables. The fact that they use real news stories to do it instead of making stuff up doesn't change the overall approach. That's just the business model.
But this week, any faint hopes I had that the Trump Russia story would have a meaningful effect pretty much evaporated. Republicans have found a way to pin the "real Russia scandal" on Hillary Clinton, and that's all they'll need to shut down the Congressional investigations, and perhaps the Special Counsel's office as well. Robert Mueller may yet be able to get some people prosecuted on state charges in New York, which can't be pardoned away by the White House, but I don't see much else that's doable.
I'm afraid we are still living in Trumpocalypse Now.
I could have been writing more about our sorry situation lately, but I've been busy - and also, I haven't really felt like it. It's too depressing. Even now, I'm thinking of all sorts of things I could write explaining why it's too depressing, but even that is too depressing. Maybe I'll get around to writing about them some other time.
Fortunately, good things can still be found in other places. And that gives us reason to hope.
My publisher likes what I've written so far as I begin the first of my Mathematical Biographies. He says it's what he'd been hoping for.
Wednesday night, our interim choirmaster gave us a gorgeous setting of an old Appalachian tune, written by Shawn Kirchner, who she knows at the LA Master Chorale.
And yesterday I took a day-trip up to Santa Barbara for... well, I can't tell you why yet, because the "official" announcement of it hasn't been made. But trust me, it was a very good day.
Each of us is only one limited human being. There's only so much we can do in this big, wide world. Fortunately, there are things we can do, if we're willing to give them our time and attention. There are people who need our help. There are people with whom we can share joy. There are people we can love and be loved by, in all the different ways that goes on.
If you believe that Jesus was who he said he was, then you've got to realize that he could have set himself on the throne in Rome and restructured the entire empire. Heck, he could have been born in our age of rapid transportation and mass communication, and dictated the entire world order. But he didn't. Instead he lived a peasant's life in a backwater territory. He lived as one person, doing what he could. Granted, that was still a lot more than you or I could do, but the approach was the same. He did what he could, where he was, with what he had. And so should we.
I can't help but think that some very dark times are coming, for this country and the world as a whole. But that doesn't mean there's no more light to be found. We can still find it. We can still create it. That's what we're meant to be doing.
But this week, any faint hopes I had that the Trump Russia story would have a meaningful effect pretty much evaporated. Republicans have found a way to pin the "real Russia scandal" on Hillary Clinton, and that's all they'll need to shut down the Congressional investigations, and perhaps the Special Counsel's office as well. Robert Mueller may yet be able to get some people prosecuted on state charges in New York, which can't be pardoned away by the White House, but I don't see much else that's doable.
I'm afraid we are still living in Trumpocalypse Now.
I could have been writing more about our sorry situation lately, but I've been busy - and also, I haven't really felt like it. It's too depressing. Even now, I'm thinking of all sorts of things I could write explaining why it's too depressing, but even that is too depressing. Maybe I'll get around to writing about them some other time.
Fortunately, good things can still be found in other places. And that gives us reason to hope.
My publisher likes what I've written so far as I begin the first of my Mathematical Biographies. He says it's what he'd been hoping for.
Wednesday night, our interim choirmaster gave us a gorgeous setting of an old Appalachian tune, written by Shawn Kirchner, who she knows at the LA Master Chorale.
And yesterday I took a day-trip up to Santa Barbara for... well, I can't tell you why yet, because the "official" announcement of it hasn't been made. But trust me, it was a very good day.
Each of us is only one limited human being. There's only so much we can do in this big, wide world. Fortunately, there are things we can do, if we're willing to give them our time and attention. There are people who need our help. There are people with whom we can share joy. There are people we can love and be loved by, in all the different ways that goes on.
If you believe that Jesus was who he said he was, then you've got to realize that he could have set himself on the throne in Rome and restructured the entire empire. Heck, he could have been born in our age of rapid transportation and mass communication, and dictated the entire world order. But he didn't. Instead he lived a peasant's life in a backwater territory. He lived as one person, doing what he could. Granted, that was still a lot more than you or I could do, but the approach was the same. He did what he could, where he was, with what he had. And so should we.
I can't help but think that some very dark times are coming, for this country and the world as a whole. But that doesn't mean there's no more light to be found. We can still find it. We can still create it. That's what we're meant to be doing.
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