The past few days have been hot here. The mountains here in western North Carolina don’t see many days in the high eighties - and we’ve had several days in the low nineties. It’s been brutal.
The dog pool is on the porch in the shade for the boys to cool off in, but they’re not staying outside long enough to use it. They go out, do their business, then come back inside to the A/C.
There were fireworks on the top of the mountain across the valley from me, visible from my front porch. I sat out there with a cold drink in the dark and watched them. They are far enough away that all you get for noise are the soft ‘thud, thud’ sounds of distant explosions and the dogs are fine with that level of noise - but you still get the full display of the colors and lights.
Like many, I’m finding it difficult to really ‘celebrate’ this country right now. But, as Rick Wilson said, “Here’s a truth I’ve learned the hard way, in politics and in life: you can love something that’s imperfect.
Thank God for that, because it means imperfect things can be loved, and imperfect people can love them.”
What I am focusing on celebrating is the sense of overall community, the fighting spirit determined to keep our marginalized communities safe and free, and the reality that is so very different than what we’re fed on social media.
So many sites would have us believe that this country is extremely divided and broken - and while there are divides, and while a lot is broken, the majority of Americans believe in equal rights, freedom of religion, freedom to love whomever you want to love, and the need to take care of each other.
That is what I’m holding on to right now. Over 250 years ago, every single direct line ancestor of mine that was in this country and physically able to fight in the Revolutionary war, did fight. My fifth, sixth, seventh great-grandfathers fought and my great-grandmothers buried husbands, sons, brothers, and often fought alongside the men by making shot, sneaking gunpowder to soldiers, bringing food to camps, even making clothes, soap, and other necessities to keep the men healthy enough to fight.
Of the men, it’s over 80 in the list that I know of and have documented with pension files or military service files for the Revolutionary war. So, to say that my family is woven into the fabric of this country is not an exaggeration. I am the descendant of nine Mayflower passengers - on both paternal and maternal sides. I am also the descendant of Passamaquoddy and Mi’kmaq tribes, of Irish and Scots immigrants, of German Jews who escaped the Holocaust…I am truly a melting pot of peoples.
There are threats and risks, fears and worries right now - but they’re not really any different at the core than the fears and worries my ancestors faced. Will I be able to keep a roof over my head? Food on my table? Will I be safe? Is my government a threat to my existence?
Nope, not much different when you get down to it. But like them, I’m going to keep fighting by speaking out, writing down words and sharing information within the communities I’m helping to build. We’re truly all in this together.
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Two full length books for your listening pleasure!
CYCLONE
Zac Mackay. Military codename: CYCLONE.
He's the town's returned hero—a man forged in battle, now working to help others be safe.
So why is Anne—the quiet doctor he’d never thought he’d see again—afraid of him?
EAGLE
Finn Bollinger. Military codename: EAGLE.
A single dad, a warrior, a hero.
For Charlotte Devereux he's also the man whose heart she broke years before. And now, he's her only chance for survival.
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