Henry Ford

 Are we even here to make progress? It's been so syringed into me that Progress is Good I have never questioned it. Maybe we don't need progress. Progress of what? For who? Why?

Work smart, not hard. Should I keep calling my trash congressman? Part of me thinks it's human and True to never stop saying the right thing to power. But if the power never listens, should I instead conserve that energy for something more beautiful? Even if it's not progressive or "important"? If it's just a journal entry or lining a cheese plate with raspberries just so?

When I canvassed this past February for Elizabeth Warren and a local candidate, we we taught if anyone comes to the door and doesn't agree with you, just say thanks and leave. You may want to inform or educate but it's likely not going to work, so just move on. We ourselves, the canvassers with clip boards, are finite resources not be be squandered.

Last week I spoke with any angry Republican on the phone for twelve minutes while banking for my hopeful Democratic rep in Illinois. I gave the brief platform speech and he was immediately peppery. So full of confusion and victimization his voice was trembling. All these corrupt democrats! He started grouching. He didn't actually have anything against the platform I described. He also didn't specifically ask to be taken off the list or even say that he wouldn't vote for my person, so I asked him some follow-ups. What issues were his concerns? I could be a resource. He parroted back a handful of disjointed Fox News sound bytes. None of them were finished ideas or logical. Most importantly, none of them had anything to do with the district's Congressional race. Truly none. He asked things like "Does she think police officers should not be allowed to stop fights?!" "Does she think Chicago should get a playground!?" I mean. Sir. I was very calm and briefly summarized my candidate's viewpoint, reiterated these are more philosophical and local issues, and added a piece of her platform he might like. About defunding billionaires and adding more sustainability options to our farmlands. He raged on democrats who are funded by corporations and I gave him the data about the Republican running--how he is funded by hundreds of thousands of oil dollars. Twelve minutes later this man said he may vote for a democrat for the first time in his life. This makes me feel good. But I'll never know how he actually votes. Or, to be honest, if he actually votes. It could have been a waste of time.

But that returns me to my first question. What is a waste of time anyway? Maybe it's just about cleaning souls. Including my own.

Puhg and I were driving by a huge maskless picnic the other day. "I've decided not to think about them." He said. "They're so self-centered. And then when I think about them, I am just adding to that, thinking about them even more." It made sense to me. I'm trying to do it too. But it's hard when a free-faced runner is barreling toward me on the sidewalk, huffing like mad, and I have to all but dive into a rose bush to avoid their spittle. I posted on social media in May what am I supposed to do with all the hate I feel for people, specifically our leaders, specifically the orange? Malt reached out. We don't talk much. He said, "I think we're not supposed to think about him." His answer felt comforting to me. And also a little squishy. To ignore feels wrong. Feels apathetic. But maybe only if I ignore and sit in a floatie. Maybe if I ignore and make art and walk the neighborhood hanging fliers for a new City Council candidate and pick up fresh local pies that's okay. Or even good.