POT-POURRI OR POO-POURRI?

MY POSTS USUALLY have a single theme. This one however, is a collection of unrelated topics.

The House of Misrepresentatives elected a religious zealot to its speakership. Mike Johnson believes his ascendence to Speaker of the House was foretold in the Bible. I believe he’s been chosen by far-right schemers who tried to fool us by first nominating Jim Jordan, the jacket-less obstruction-specialist from Ohio who would rather spit and hurl his anger than put forth legislation. Compared to Jordan’s daily demeanor, Johnson’s is gentlemanly, calm, and almost apologetic. Or so it appears. As the demands to function/govern played tug-of-war with the slow-as-molasses-in-winter pace of selecting a new speaker, up popped Johnson. Have we been snookered into thinking mild-mannered Mike is much better for the country than is the poster boy of visible meanness?

One of my writer friends posts photos of her (and her wife’s) lovely home near Asheville, North Carolina. Their lushly landscaped property provides them stunning views of nearby mountains and colorful tree canopies. They share the panoramas with the four-footed neighbors who have always lived there. Occasionally, my friend posts pictures of deer who’ve paused to munch the local fauna. Lovely. Touching. She has also displayed pics of the bear/s who visit the property. Claws! Jaws! I rush to click the “oh-my-God-be-careful!” emoji! I seem to have developed a particular, if not unnatural fear of bears, caused perhaps by my news feed’s daily videos of humans encounters with bears.

So, last Wednesday, my mobile phone, landline, and iPad alarmed me simultaneously. “This is a safety notice from the Plymouth Township Notification Service. A bear has been spotted in the vicinity of Hoover Road. If you see this bear…” My spouse (let’s call her Viv) and I used to live on Hoover Road. It’s a half mile from where we are now. Although math is not my strong suit, nor is knowledge about bears, I tried to calculate how long it might take a bear to travel from our former street to our present location. Fifteen minutes? Half an hour? Certainly, faster than it would take me to cover that distance. He has four feet. I have only two.

I went outside to tell Viv about the bear, whose grunting I swore I’d begun to hear. (The bear’s, not Viv’s.) I hinted that she might want to do her gardening chores closer to the house instead of in “the wayback” behind the shed, where I couldn’t put eyes on her. She’s so enamored of most animals, she’d probably name the bear “Teddy” and offer him a treat from the composter.

Much to my relief, a day later members of the PA Game Commission trapped the bear and relocated it after it toured the parking lot at the local shopping mall (maul?)

Earlier this month, we had our first Road Scholars experience. The program, “Spies, Lies, and Espionage”, took place in Washington, DC. During the program’s four days, we toured the NSA’s Cryptologic Museum and the Spy Museum, learned about the history of spyware (from message balloons to the Enigma Code-Breaker machine, and other tools James Bond’s colleague, Q, might have invented.) We paid rapt attention to discussions led by a former CIA spy, a decorated Senior Intelligence Officer, and the Director of the Cyber Security Program at George Washington University. By the end of the trip, we trusted no one.

Imagine the irony of learning information about the intelligence community and the meaning of the designation “Top Secret,” and then reading that trump had shared top-secret info about a U.S. nuclear submarine with an Australian businessman who then shared the info with quite a few of his associates.

Our group leader was a Brooklyn-born guy who was now retired after a twenty-six year career with the Israeli military. He’d had a lot of experience with the program’s subject matter, especially the topic of national intelligence. Irony struck once again as the horror of October 7th became known. He assured us the Hamas-led attack was a result of “intelligence failure.”

Once again, we are watching a war take place in real time. Its scenes of carnage, destruction, and human suffering fill our screens twenty-four hours. I fear we could become insensitive to the pain and misery foisted upon so many people. I worry about the fate of those who have been taken hostage. What kind of life is in store for all of the orphaned children?

Our Road Scholar leader was somewhat distracted the last two days of the program. We understood why he scanned his devices so frequently while never missing a beat of his narration. His two adult children live in Israel, and he had difficulty contacting them.

Viv and I mention his name every day. We send him our wishes for his family’s safety, and our hope that he’ll be able to see his children once again.

© Renée Bess 2023

Renée Bess is the author of five novels, an anthology of short fiction, poetry and opinion pieces, and the co-curator of the 2019 GCLS Goldie Award-winning Our Happy Hours, LGBT Voices from the Gay Bars. Her website address is: http://www.reneebess.com