Flags, Rubik’s Cubes, and Resistance

A few weeks ago, my 11 year-old grandson and I went to our local Dollar General store. As he’s wont to do, he dashed around the store looking for treasures for me to buy for him.

One such treasure was a Rubik’s cube. I pointed out that he already had one, and he informed me that it was misplaced. So, I told him to put it in my cart.

Soon after, the kid was searching for images of flags around the world and happily maneuvering the cube to re-create the images of flags.

“Look Grandma-it’s Belize!”

“Look Grandma-it’s Italy!”

“Look Grandma-it’s Turkey!”

I love his creative, curious spirit.

My Dad, Babe, served in the Korean War. From him, I learned to always respect the flag. He took pride in displaying the American flag in front of our house. He kept it in pristine condition (like he did with virtually every single thing).

Mr. NOA and I were recently on our way in our trusty Tacoma to a medical appointment (no worries, all is well) about 45 minutes away. A house on a corner featured a tRump flag. Two, actually. I instinctively shook my head in frustration upon seeing this particular flag in someone’s yard. Then my eye caught another (tRump) flag on the other side of the yard. Only this one was horribly tattered. It had sun damage and almost appeared to have been the victim of a toddler with a pair of scissors.

Upon pointing it out to Mr. NOA (unfortunately I wasn’t swift enough to capture the image of this forlorn flag), he said “it’s tattered, just like our country is now”. True that, as they say.

I remember a phrase Kamala Harris said often during her ill-fated presidential campaign: it’s a crying shame. She said it about many different things, but often it was about the economic struggles faced by low to mid-income hard-working American families. That really resonated with me, because I felt she was speaking from her heart. She knew that if there was to be a second tRump administration, things would certainly get worse for Americans.

Indeed, things have gotten much, much worse here in the good old U.S.A. On so many levels.

The overwhelm I feel about it all threatens to render me helpless. I think acknowledging that is helpful. As is giving myself permission to retreat from it all from time to time, in an effort to retain my sanity.

Not completely retreat, mind you. I care too much about the future of this country and my fellow citizens for that.

I’ve been doing itty bitty things here and there to stay engaged in the resistance to this evil regime. Like sending postcards to the White House, expressing my disgust of this administration’s willfull resistance to the rule of law. I’ve made calls and sent emails to my state senators, urging them to do the right thing and oppose this administration. Mr. NOA and I attended a rally last weekend in a nearby town, holding signs we made for the occasion. It lifted my spirits to be amongst the 25 or so other folks expressing collective outrage at what is happening to our country.

We plan on attending the next rally, scheduled for the first Saturday in May. My hope is that even more people will join us; perhaps some of the folks driving past us during the first rally who enthusiastically honked their horns and gave us “thumbs ups”.

It seems to me that if every one of us who is against what is happening to democracy in America right now does what they can, what they feel able to do with whatever time/energy/skills they possess, we have a chance at getting this ship turned around and on a better path for us all.

I’ve been on a classic rock and protest song kick lately, so I’ll leave you with this gem.

Journey is an Overused Word

Are you like me, who has certain words that just…grate? Words that you hear so much, seemingly everywhere you go, whether online or IRL, that they at minimum lose their meaning and maximum make you want to throw things?

I could preface what I’m about to say with the phrase “unpopular opinion”, but to me that’s another phrase that I dislike because of it’s overuse in the current American English lexicon. It’s certainly an attention-grabber, but it seems to me whatever comes next after that phrase is often not an unpopular opinion.

I believe “journey” is an over-used word.

I prefer the word “path” (says the blogger with the word path in the title of their publication).

Per Merriam-Webster, the definition of the word “journey” is thus: “something suggesting travel or passage from one place to another”.

Also per Merriam-Webster, the definition of the word “path” is both “a trodden way” and “a track specially constructed for a specific use”.

I recognize and appreciate that both the words “journey” and “path” are often used figuratively as opposed to literally.

I prefer the word “path” over “journey” because it feels more concrete. It’s not so “hippy dippy” sounding; it connotes purposeful action. The word “path” feels weightier and rougher. More grounded and real than the ethereal “journey”.

This is why I’m glad I chose to call this blog “Pollyanna’s Path” and not “Pollyanna’s Journey”. It suits me better.

Now, the “Pollyanna” part is a whole other ball of wax for me at this point on my blogging path. I may pontificate on that in a future blog post.

The “path” part feels right to me creatively. I created this “track” just over 8 years ago. It hasn’t been entirely smooth or straight. It’s had moments where it lost its way a bit and moments of silent reflection. It’s had times where it saw something shiny in the distance and switched gears to try something new. Sometimes it resonated with readers, sometimes it did not. It’s all part of this writing path of mine.

I do, however, quite enjoy one version of “journey”…..

I Feel Bad about my Arms

Years ago, I started reading a book (possibly a memoir?) by Nora Ephron. When she wrote something to the effect of “I feel bad about my neck”, in that she felt it needed covering because as she’d gotten older the skin started looking crepey. I stopped reading after that line, because I just couldn’t relate. It felt like she was speaking to women “of a certain age” (aka much older than me at that time). And my neck was perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch.

Now I kinda get it. Only for me, it’s about my arms.

I was looking in the mirror a month or so ago and decided I didn’t like the appearance of my upper arms. They are flabby and jiggly and just overall unattractive. As I enjoy wearing sleeveless tops in the summertime, I decided to address this situation with intention.

Now, I’ve always had little upper-arm strength. I remember being one of maybe two or three other kids in middle school who were unable to do that thing where you hang by your arms on a metal bar. I also have hereditary peripheral neuropathy, which causes my limbs to frequently give me that oh-so-fun feeling of pins and needles, in particular when I stay in one position for too long.

I figured the simplest route to reducing my upper arm flab would be to incorporate doing push-ups on my bedroom floor during my regular morning yoga stretching/praying session.

Guess what? I can do up to 27 sit-ups now! Granted they are not the traditional, full-on push-ups; they are the kind of push-ups where I’m on my knees so that it’s only the upper half of my body weight in play. Then, I will do up to 4 actual, real push-ups. Well, real enough. I estimate that I’ve gone from moving 1/2 inch toward the floor to 1 whole inch since I began this routine.

This might seem quite pathetic to you all, especially if you’re the sporty type. But I see it as a baby step toward my goal of having less flabby arms and a stronger core. If I just remain consistent with it, I ought to get results.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

For your auditory enjoyment, may I present an uplifting, groovy little tune sung by a one-of-a-kind artist, Ray LaMontagne.