Here we go, America!
It’s the dawn of the TrumpApocalypse or the TrumpUtopia, whichever it turns out to be. There are plenty of good people believing in one or the other. Me, I’ll live my life, trying to avoid the highs and lows of the best and worst expectations while the Trump era unfolds. In 58 years on earth I’ve learned to be ordinarily skeptical, in politics and in the quest for new discoveries. Ordinary skepticism – not cynicism! – keeps me grounded in reality and banishes despair. The upshot: I permit myself to be happy.
My home is near the grand coast of Maine, a beautiful place where it’s easy to believe God is nearby. In the summer, one of my favorite things to do is take an early morning run along the shore road of Peaks Island, before the sun has climbed very high from its emergence in the eastern sky. The Atlantic horizon is illuminated by its brilliance, and a peculiar Maine light makes sea, surf and sky appear sublime.
Today, though, is a damp, raw, and gray January day. Tom Brady and the New England Patriots will compete for the AFC championship later on, and I’ll be cheering them on alongside my husband Dennis, cozy in our living room. Until then, I have my Kindle to entertain me.
I’m reading The Glory, a novel of Israel by Herman Wouk. It’s the second in a pair of stories depicting that young nation’s struggle for survival and acceptance from its neighbors and the world. I greatly admire the heroes and the ordinary people who contributed to those efforts, and who continue to do so today.