[As usual, cross-posted from the Democracy Cell Project]
Last Saturday, as I was fielding comments on Daily Kos about the piece Why We're Leaving, prospective buyers were traipsing through the house, opening the doors of newly-cleaned out closets, perusing the half-empty book shelves, and asking the occasional question about the plumbing. The traipsing continued through Sunday, even though we did not even have a For Sale sign in the front yard yet.
On Monday, we had four offers to buy. We accepted the one from the nice young couple who will have a baby in three months. They seemed to be the hopeful choice: they had saved their money for ten years, had lost out on another house they had loved, and were so so positive about our house. They bid high. They won.
And thus our own sense of doing the right thing at the right time was validated.
We have found a sweet little (tiny, small, teensy) apartment to rent for a year, about a mile from our current location, and a mile from the Capitol as well. Our chances of running into Members of Congress at the supermarket are slim, our proximity to the halls of power reduced, our privileged views a thing of the past.
I cannot tell you how freed I feel. Tears of relief rise up in me, and have all week.
My friend in England said to me last night (on Skype), "But what if Obama wins?" An ex-pat American, who divides her time between Norway, Spain, and England, she is not bitter and she has hope, now, at last. I told her that if Obama wins, that would be wonderful, in my opinion, because it would mean that the American voters have managed to overcome our natural inclination to elect the person we would rather get drunk with rather than someone who can actually govern the country. But it is still going to be a nasty nasty struggle, and the forces working against the common good are well-funded and effective.
Those forces have too many of the Washington insiders in thrall. You can see it in their eyes: alternately vacant and worried. Avuncular men state "all is not lost!" to each other, and pound the upper arms of the distressed. Staffers slink around, busying themselves with press releases and policy statements so they don't have to think too much about the ramifications of those statements. The members of the Progressive Caucus try to be cheerful as they watch their own hard work undermined, over and over again, by the Blue Dogs, who are in turn, defensive and determined.
The last thing any of them want in their day: activists. Activists disrupt the flow of business. First of all, there are not enough of them around to make much of a difference, except as they impede one's progress along a corridor, and secondly, they tend to ask uncomfortable questions. And they actually want answers.
After the 2006 election, I wrote a congratulatory email to a friend inside Congress and asked him how he felt. He said he felt like "the dog who chases the car and finally catches the car. Now what?" Now what indeed.
Several of the commenters last week accused us of abandoning the movement and the efforts to re-democratize the country. But to my mind the abandonment happened, has been happening, maybe was always happening, because deep down, it is so difficult to be inconvenienced. I concur, you know, I never missed a class or a meeting for a protest or an action. I have always met my obligations to my kids, my students, my colleagues. My fasting with the Code Pink women in front of the White House? July. Planning for Camp Democracy? August. Teaching activist workshops? Spring break.
Howard Zinn, in his autobiography You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train, says that he always had difficulty being arrested because he really liked going home to his wife and kids at the end of the day.
We are a nation of some privilege, but that privilege comes with obligations as well. My beautiful house near the halls of power, with the proximity to schools, museums, culture, great libraries required me to work hard at my job, and to find additional sources of income when possible. My connections into the culture of power demand that I speak up and speak out when possible as well. But it is far safer for me to speak up from my blog, or to poor Rep. McGovern as he buys milk at the corner store, than it is for any of the ambitious holding-onto-idealism kids who work inside Congress to effect a change in the location of a comma in a memo.
We went out to dinner the other night: after we netted about $27.00 at our yard sale, we blew it all on spaghetti at the local bistro. It was late so the other tables were filled with young staffers, eating pizza (What? They don't get enough pizza during the day?) and talking about their bosses, the internal struggles in the offices, and the opposing political party. (We pride ourselves on trying to guess which party their boss is from; it's a lot easier to tell that than it is to decipher which part of the country they represent and that, my friends, is worth thinking about). The ambition is on their faces like excess pizza sauce. They are not bitter, but they are cynical, and they are determined. They have smarts but not a shred of perspective.
I just can't watch this anymore.
But I can write about it, and distance will help. I can open up a little, breathe, and reflect. We can stop worrying about money and we can reduce our own privileged footprint on the planet. We are lucky, lucky and the universe is nodding yes, go, speak from knowledge and perspective.
I am reminded:
The Waking - Theodore Roethke
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go
We will learn by going.