Take The Keys [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on July 22, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

We’re writing a bit ahead so by the time you read this the smoke may have cleared. However, the challenge will remain.

Kerri just shared a short instagram piece. The cost of fighting the now mega-fires runs roughly a trillion dollars a year. The Instagram-speaker made it clear that, although forest fires happen every year, the mega-fires that are now an annual occurrence are avoidable. He asked an obvious question: why wouldn’t we put our trillion dollars toward combating climate change, toward green energy, toward the future…toward preventing the conditions that produce the mega-fires, tornadoes, floods and droughts that a heating globe produces?

There is a man in our community who claims to be climate scientist. Meet him on the street and he will loudly proclaim that climate change is a hoax. Hit him with some data and facts and he’ll reject it all as “fake science”. Apparently, his belief in himself is more powerful than actual science – which affords him the capacity to claim that only his science is real. It’s the same logic employed by RFK Jr., Dr. Oz and the rest of the authoritarian clown car, including the chief authoritarian who loves to yammer on and on about the virtues of clean coal. This is the same guy that suggested we shoot up with bleach to clean ourselves of COVID, the same man who lost an election six years ago and to this day refuses to accept the truth. His only recourse is to foment lies – much like the man in our community who thumps his chest on city streets and insists that he alone is the steward of facts.

It is no small challenge we face.

We took the keys from my dad when dementia unplugged him from reality. He slipped into a world all his own and that made him a danger to himself and to others. Listening to the confirmation hearings of Todd Blanche and Jay Clayton, the ramblings of a president in obvious mental decline, the white nationalist ravings of Stephen Miller…it’s time to take the keys. The whole maga country club is unplugged and dangerous.

Even though the actual fires are hundreds of miles away, the air in our region is too dangerous to breathe. That’s the way the systems on earth work. We are not separate no matter how much the current administration would like to pretend that we are. The number of tornadoes are breaking records. Record rainfall is causing flash floods here, there, and everywhere. “The world’s oceans absorb over 90% of the excess heat trapped in the Earth’s climate system. This relentless absorption is driving ocean temperatures to record highs, warming at double the rate they were twenty years ago.” (NASA Science)

The rising temperature in the ocean is akin to the canary in the coal mine. Our canary is currently motionless at the bottom of the cage.

We are the frog in the pot yet still might have the capacity to control the stove if we show up en masse to vote, if we fight to protect our vote from the crew that insists on living in their alternative facts, who claim to be cowboys but daily cry that they are victims of the past administration-or-plots-or-the-other-party, that their facts are the only facts, even when nothing they espouse lines up with demonstrable truth. They want power in perpetuity and will do and say anything to get it. Anything.

The reality that they deny – or are too morbidly wealthy to see – is that they, too, are frogs in the pot. They believe power and money will put them out of reach of the natural disasters that they conveniently ignore. Magical thinking. There is, after all, only one pot.

It’s time to take the keys before their hubris – or dedicated ignorance – kills all of us.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SUNRISE THOUGH SMOKE

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What Do You See? [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on July 21, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

In this cloud Kerri sees a dragon. What do you see?

34 years ago Dave bought one of my paintings. It was so new that I’d neglected to sign it. In fact, I’d hung it on my living room wall because I wasn’t certain that it was finished. I was studying it. It was at best a happy accident that he even saw the painting. He loved it and bought it. I boxed it up and shipped it. I didn’t even have a proper photograph of it. Recently, out of the blue, he contacted me to ask if I might issue a certificate of authenticity. I was delighted to whip up a certificate for him but even more delighted to finally have a photo of the painting.

During our email exchange he asked me a question that is commonly asked of artists: “Maybe you could help me with a conversation I have had countless times with my wife and friends over the years.What is going on in the painting?” I smiled, knowing that he was going to hate my answer.

The first rule of artistry, as it was pounded into me, is to never answer the question, “What’s going on in the painting?” Or the song. Or the dance. The reason has nothing to do with keeping it a secret or whipping up a mystery. The reason is that “the art” happens in the moment of direct engagement, the moment when someone (not the artist) sees something in the painting, something personal. Something they bring to it or pull from it. They re-create the painting as theirs. That moment is a moment of creation. It’s the reason I get cranky at curators who feel the need to tell an audience what a painting means or what is going on in the composition; the curator steps between the viewer and their direct experience. They interrupt the creation. It’s like a priest inserting himself between a worshipper and their direct personal communion with their higher power. Some things need no interpretation.

Art is meant to open people to personal insight, to evoke questions or a deeply personal response to what they perceive. To spark conversation and lively debate.

When an artists tells someone what they intended, they are closing down the possibilities, stopping the moment of re-creation.

Dave wrote, “I have had people say it’s a panoramic of a hectic bar scene complete with a dog. Others say it’s showing an individual struggling with themselves, or a metaphysical exercise with multiple persons showing multiple emotions. Any light you can shine on the subject of the painting would be very helpful.” I adored every interpretation he shared.

Many years ago, at my very first art show, during the opening, I followed two old guys around the gallery. They did not know that I was the artist. I followed them so I could eavesdrop on their very lively conversation. They speculated about the meaning of each piece. I was amazed at what they saw. They had fun debating the sanity of the artist. They finally concluded that I must be insane BUT wrapped in their conclusion was the single best compliment I have ever received. After determining that I was insane, one of the gents leaned into his friend and said, “All of the good ones are, you know.”

Imagine how disappointed they’d have been if I had tagged along and told them what each piece meant to me. Trust me, their interpretations were infinitely more interesting than my intention just as, for Dave and his friends, a hectic bar scene with a dog or an internal struggle or a metaphysical exercise…are wildly more satisfying than any light I might shine on the painting. My light would kill the fun and the power of their re-creation.

What do you see? Kerri sees a dragon in the clouds…

Untitled, circa 1992, approx. 36″ x 112″, acrylic, house paint, animation cell paint on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about DRAGON IN THE CLOUDS

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Bubbles, Bubbles Everywhere [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on July 20, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

A “useful idiot” is a derogatory political term for a person who is manipulated into supporting a cause or agenda without fully understanding its true goals or consequences. They inadvertently aid a political group that may actually oppose their own interests. ~ Merriam-Webster

Historians will write of maga as a coalition of useful idiots.

Farmers. Hispanic males. Blue collar workers. Red-hat-wearing-flag-waving-women. People. Despite a mountain of evidence to the contrary, despite an insurrection, a first go-round that left the world slack-jawed at the incompetence, these people bit the lie hook, line and sinker. They voted a second time – in some cases a third time – for their own demise and the ruination of the very system they believed they were voting to protect.

I’ve ask myself everyday, “How is this possible?” And then…

And then I watch on-the-street-interviews with hardcore maga-mates who are honestly shocked when shown images of January 6th. It is as if they’ve never seen them – because they haven’t. Their news source – their information source – edited the facts to maintain the illusion within their bubble.

I am agog at the legion of Hispanic males who voted for a candidate who promised mass-deportation. What bubble gave them the illusion that masked immigration agents running amok, targeting brown and black people for deportation, would not impact them? What bubble gave them the illusion that they and their families would not be the target of the horror?

The current occupant of the White House destroyed the farm economy in his first term. What info-bubble made is possible for them to once again vote for the man, the party and “policies” so ruinous to their livelihood? “The number of farm bankruptcies in the second quarter of 2025 was double the number of bankruptcies for the entire year of 2024″. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

I shake my head in utter disbelief at the Joe Rogans, the right wing media who are now gobsmacked that inflation is rising, that we are in yet another forever war, that this administration is throwing the full weight of the government behind protecting the Epstein Class, that billionaires are getting wealthier while the American dream is farther and farther out of reach for the rest of the nation. Why are they now surprised? They voted for it. They cheered it into existence.

What bubble prevented them from seeing the obvious? The grift. The lies. The corruption. The incompetence. Project 2025, the blueprint for fascism, was not hidden. What bubble promotes dross as valuable?

It’s possible that we’ve found the Achilles Heel of the 1st Amendment. None of us are impervious to misinformation. What happens when the right of free speech, the protected expression of opinion, is confused with the concept of “news”? What happens when fiction is juicier and more profitable than fact? Confirmation bias for you and for me. A people no longer seeking the truth, but opinions with which we agree. Bubbles, bubbles, here and there. Useful idiots everywhere.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BUBBLES

kerrianddavid.com

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Naturally [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on July 17, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan

It used to really bother me that the squirrels ate all the birdseed, that they lapped up all the grape jelly meant for the orioles. And while I was sitting in my Adirondack chair twisting in my bother, Kerri would be laughing. “They are so cute!” she’d exclaim. One day it occurred to me that it probably felt better to laugh rather than to be bothered so I gave it a try.

It not only felt better but it also exposed the folly of my vexation. Imagine! I was putting food into feeders and exasperated that a critter was eating it. Oh, spare me from the desire to control all things!

In laughter I can see with amazement the acrobatics of these furry little ninjas. Every obstacle I erect is a challenge they accept. In case, like me, you find yourself lost in a frustrated bother, I can attest that delight is a much better use of your life than is irritation. Every obstacle they overcome is a challenge I accept. It is a dance. In delight, I have become symbiotic with my squirrels.

I can also attest that underneath all of that angst and aggravation is an attempt (a fantasy) to control the uncontrollable. It’s a fool’s errand. The squirrels will behave like squirrels. Naturally.

Humans will behave like humans. I have a choice! I can delight in the impossible or clench my fists until I am red in the face. As it turns out, an open hand feels much better than a tight fist. Naturally.

“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut, If This Isn’t Nice, What Is?: Advice for the Young

*****

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes or streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about SQUIRRELS

kerrianddavid.com

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Just That [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on July 16, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

My favorite email of the week comes from Horatio. In last week’s post I included a new painting, an experiment. Horatio wrote, “Wow! Keep digging into that.” Later he added, “Dive in, amigo. That is the earth and the sun and moon all talking to you.” My painting is resonate of runes. Joking, Horatio asked, “Can’t you read runic code?”

“What a great idea!” I exclaimed to myself. I Googled runic code and found several runic translators. For kicks, I typed into the translator, “To be or not to be, that is the question.” This is what Shakespeare looks like in runic symbol:

ᛏᛟ ᛒᛖ ᛟᚱ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛏᛟ ᛒᛖ, ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᛁᛋ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛩᚢᛖᛋᛏᛁᛟᚾ

Every written language is sound translated into line so we might translate the line back into sound. Musical notes also represent sound in a visual symbol. It is so fundamental, so ubiquitous, that we forget the miracle of it all. We scratch lines on paper to capture ideas, to remember dreams, to record symphonies. We’ve created a code, an alphabet, a limited yet specific number of symbols, developed a set of rules that make our scratches uniform, common and understandable. We created a “dictionary” so the sequencing of the symbols would not be individualized but uniform, shared.

In our nation we insist that we are divided, irreconcilable in our differences, but need a shared language, the most common of common grounds, to do so.

And now we text. The symbols newly created and used, emojis, are pictorial abbreviations, short cuts in a medium servicing the reduction of the message. I❤️U. WTF! 😂 Pictographs and phonetics. In the name of progress we revisit the ancients and now write like Egyptians. We communicate in hieroglyphs.

In these times, difference of language, difference of alphabet, is less of a barrier than difference of opinion. Language translators populate our devices. They are not perfect since culture is non-translatable, but we at least approach the ballpark of understanding. Yet, we are learning, even when our language is shared, that no amount of translating can build a bridge of understanding between maga and the rest of us. A shared language is most useful when facts are also shared.

I am a fan of Wade Davis, an ethnobotanist, a studier of culture and language. He tells a story of indigenous people in the Amazon rainforest, mixing rare plants, grown in different regions, for medicines. He asked them, “How do you know what plants to use?” Incredulous at his question, they laughed and replied, “The plants tell us.”

The plants tell us. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” – Hamlet (1.5.167-8)

The lines we draw that carry the sounds that give shape to words are ultimately all drawn from our conversation with nature. Where else? The earth and the sun and moon all talk to us. When we engage with lines meant to carry meaning, like a runic code, we ask, “What does it mean?” When you look at my painting of lines that seems to carry a message, it is natural to ask, “What does it say?” And that – just that impulse – to know, to understand; it is the hope of humanity, the thing we all share, the desire that brings us together, the yearning to understand IS the desire, the most basic of desires, to join, to reach, to connect.

Untitled, acrylic on board

read Kerri’s blogpost about CHIVES AND SUN

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Say, “Enough.” [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on July 15, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Few symbols are as positive as a dragonfly. So we were heartened when two decided to visit, resting in the branch that we’ve wrapped in lights and affixed to our deck. New beginnings, spiritual alignment, harmony in relationship. They stayed with us for quite awhile. They were willing subjects with the spontaneous photo shoot.

Each morning we read the two Heathers: Heather Cox Richardson and Heather Delaney Reese (It’s A Lovely Life). The news is bleak but their message is hopeful: we will get through this authoritarian nightmare if together we show-up and speak-up. This full frontal assault on our rights by the executive, republican legislative, and judicial branch (the extreme supremes) is unprecedented. The Heathers have faith in the will of the people. They are calling the people, all of us, to assert our will in this extreme moment in our nation’s history. Government of, by, and for the people requires the people to stand up to their government – the people that they elected – when their government goes rogue.

I couldn’t help but project the positive meaning of our dragonfly visit onto the entire nation. Somewhere out there is a new beginning, a nation of people, diverse and complex, that values harmony over division. From this hot fire a Phoenix will rise. But first, the fire. What is becoming more and more clear is that we cannot wait to stand up. The election in November is not certain. The window is closing. The authoritarian attacks are ramping up. We are the hope of the nation – if we stand up and say, “Enough”.

Enough. This week ICE killed two more innocent men. Their crime? They were driving to work. Enough. Due process and habeas corpus are guaranteed to all people in our constitution, citizens and non-citizens alike. Where did they go? Concentration camps and deportation without due process are blatantly unconstitutional. They are also un-american, not to mention amoral. Enough. Our government should not be providing cover for a rapist and a global pedophile network. Enough. And why-oh-why are we at war? Enough. Enough. Enough.

The basic right that they would now corrupt is the right to vote. Our vote is the final line, the only thing separating us from an ugly fall into fascism. The line gets thinner and thinner every single day. There is no evidence – none – that our elections are or have ever been corrupt, why-oh-why are we inundated and permitting the incessant lies of a man so clearly afraid of a free and fair election. Enough.

Republican silence. Dedicated cowardice. A majority of ideologues populating the Supreme Court, wrecking our system of checks-and-balances in order to give an out-of-control executive unchecked power…it is anti-democratic. Enough.

Both Heathers caution that the days ahead will be darker because this administration is desperate. They – he – will do anything to hold onto power. Their – his -corruption is so egregious that they – he – will do anything to avoid accountability. Anything. And so we must meet their – his – “anything” with an equal and opposite force. A unified voice saying, “Enough.”

There is no more time for complacency. Wait-and-see will guarantee the end of our democracy. No one is or will be untouched by what this administration is attempting (I am suddenly awash in a memory: responding to a woman in a workshop who expressed a desire to find her voice, my business partner asked, “If you had your voice, what would you say?”). There is no more time to search for voice.

For me, the Heathers serve as dragonflies sitting on the branch above us. Hope. A new beginning. They remind us each day that our nation, living the promise of democracy, is possible. This is a cusp. What happens next is ours to decide, not the spineless republicans, not the corrupt supremes, not the wannabe dictator. Ours. The line gets thinner and thinner every single day. Together – together – we must grow louder, stronger, every single day speaking with a unified voice. Enough.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DRAGONFLIES

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The Willingness To Change [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on July 14, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

We will have a bumper crop of tomatoes this year. The heat, the humidity, the ample rain have provided the perfect tomato growing conditions.

Keep in mind that I am not an expert on tomato growing conditions. I have no knowledge and limited experience growing tomatoes so when I assert that we have perfect-tomato-growing-conditions I am being hyperbolic. I really don’t know. I am borrowing statements from 20 who is a seasoned grower of tomatoes. I do know and can write with certainty that our tomato plants are a’ poppin’. They are climbing to the sky. They are out of control.

What is it in us that needs to be right, with or without knowledge of the subject? Or at least appear to be? I suppose it is not a trait unique to our time but is a characteristic common in human beings. What is it in us that needs our opinions and judgments to masquerade as facts?

We live in the age of rabid confirmation bias. We seek easy reinforcement of what we believe-to-be-true while soundly rejecting any fact or mountain-of-data that contradicts what we believe. Every day we witness leaders make up what they want to be true, what they want us to believe. They ask us not to believe our eyes and many – too many – comply. Firmly planted into lazy minds is the phrase, “Fake News”.

For instance, elections in these United States are – and have always been – safe. Actual incidents of corruption or fraud in our elections are so minuscule that they are statistically zero. You’d never know that if you listened to the current occupant of the White House, the Speaker of the House or the maga republicans who currently clamor to pass a bill that will rob people of color and women of the right to vote. They commit fraud in the name of fraud prevention – and their base eats it like candy. People-who-want-to-believe-what-they-want-to-believe so participate in the destruction of the very system they claim to defend.

It would only take a moment to check the verity of their belief. That, to me, is the ultimate tragedy of our times: we’d rather defend a lie than confront a truth. We’d rather vehemently insist on our righteous belief, arguing over the existence of the iceberg in our path rather than turn the Titanic in time. As we are discovering, as becomes clearer every day in this kakistocracy, the USA is not unsinkable.

And it would only take a minute. And some courage. And some commitment to fact.

In 2020 we saw the insurrection with our own eyes. People died. In the wind-up to the insurrection we heard the loser-of-the-election call the Georgia secretary of state asking to “find” enough ballots to overturn the election. The loser spent months sowing the seeds of doubt in our elections, whipping his followers into a frenzy, readying them for violence because he knew he would lose. We are now, in 2026, witnessing a repeat performance, only this time it is more dangerous. We are everyday inundated with the false claim that our elections are fraudulent – and witnessing the republican party pretend that it is so. They act “as if”. It is a stage-performance with very real consequences that could include the end of our democracy.

Just a little commitment to fact. And some courage.

We must all face the fact that we cannot survive in a nation of dueling “facts”. The white nationalist fantasy of pure blood is – a fantasy. We are a diverse nation that strives for equity and inclusion. We are a nation of laws and not a nation of tyrant kings. Voter fraud is concocted by fraudsters who intend to usurp power from the hands of the people so they might forever live above the law.

If these republicans are successful in their attempted coup, they will successfully flip every statement I just wrote. We will be a nation subject to the rage of white supremacists, an authoritarian nation with the power firmly in the hands of the few, their crimes never subject to the law. We will be a democracy in memory only.

Truth takes just a few minutes to verify. And some courage. And the willingness to change when the facts do not support belief. Truth requires the ethical fortitude to call a lie a lie. Just a little commitment to fact.

read Kerri’s blog post about TOMATOES

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Live To See Another Day [Davids blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on July 13, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Kerri and I do almost everything together which is ideal until we go to the department store to buy new bras. For me, it is a perilous undertaking. The ladies sneer at me the moment I step foot into the bra department. It is no-mans land. It is the place women go to escape the dude-o-sphere and deal with the baseline realities of womanhood. I’ve learned that, in this clear and present danger-zone, I have only two paths for survival: 1) try to disappear. On the surface, disappearing seems like a wise option since the aggression from other bra-shoppers is palpable and violence is a real possibility. However, I’ve learned from experience that I could become the invisible man, a tiny mouse, and they’d still know my exact location, they track my every step. The danger does not disappear even if I do.

The better option is #2: become the efficient executive assistant to my bra-shopping wife. Survival means keeping her organized through a very difficult and complex series of decisions, refiling the rejects, pulling options for consideration, bolstering her courage when she is overwhelmed, reinforcing her ideals of beauty when she launches into inevitable self-denigration. Slowly, I become the secret envy of every woman in the department. I know that beneath their disdain, they are wishing they, too, had a helpful witness to their travails, an executive assistant to make their task a wee-bit easier. I am careful to be all business and not to become cheerful. No matter how helpful, cheerful men in the bra department is a step-too-far.

I know I am safe when, after several minutes of following along, holding an armful of possible options, I say, “What about the Bali?” to which Kerri, knowing the danger I am in, replies, “No. I like the Warners.” And I say, “Right, Bali can be too fancy-schmancy.” For a brief moment the frowning mouths twitch into smiles and I know I will live to see another day.

To cement my survival I purposefully pick up the wrong bra and suggest, “What about this one?” Kerri takes the briefest of glances and says, “No. No underwire, remember?”

“Right!” I declare and add, “I always forget about the dangers of the underwire. I mean, who would think that was a good idea! Bras must be designed by men!” The angry shoppers look away to hide their amusement. I say to myself, but loud enough to be heard, “No underwire. Stay away from fancy-schmancy. Got it!”

read Kerri’s blog post about FANCY-SCHMANCY

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Study With Dogga [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on July 10, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Why do so many of us, as we grow into so-called maturity, become dull, insensitive to joy, to beauty, to the open skies and the marvellous earth?” ~ Krishnamurti, Think On These Things

Dogga, in his old age, is doing what my father did in his last years. He sits on the back deck and watches the world. He is not watching the world go by. No! He is taking the world in. I imagine that he marvels at the beauty of it all. The robins taking dirt baths, the squirrels robbing grape jelly from the oriole feeder, the mint and lavender, the smell of earth after the rain. His appreciation of every-little-thing comes from contentment. After a life-long journey he feels no need to achieve or change a thing.

I am watching him and learning. His joy is immediate, quiet and boundless.

The Buddhist tradition posits that desire is the source of all suffering. The desire to be some-other-place. The desire to be some other person. The desire to attain some new thing. Separation from self is separation from the current moment. Dogga, like Columbus in his backyard meditations, is empty of desire, opening present-space for the fullness of life.

Though I cannot claim to be free of desire, I experience those moments sometimes. I drop-in. We walk along the lake after the rain, cool air off the water breaking the heat of the day. Holding hands, we marvel at the sailboat braving the lake so soon after the violence of the storm. She stops to take a picture and I am suddenly open space, empty of desire, beauty rushing in. It is neither too enormous nor too small. I am not a witness or performer. I am simply marveling. Part of. And then, with the thought that it is fleeting, comes the ache, the desire to hold on to all of it. I laugh, knowing better but not able to practice what-I-think-I-know.

Clearly, I have more learning to do (another desire!) and will happily study Dogga. How does he do it? How does he immerse in the beauty of it all and yet not yearn for it to last forever?

WHEN THE FOG LIFTS on the album THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1998 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SAILBOAT

www.kerrianddavid.com

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The Clouds Part [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on July 9, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

In Seattle, after weeks of being shrouded in clouds, Mt Rainier would suddenly appear and people would exclaim, “The mountain has come out!” I almost wrecked my car the first time I saw it. Living now as I do, near the shore of Lake Michigan, when on a clear day we walk to the park or the beach and look south, it is possible to see the tallest buildings of Chicago. I think, “The city has come out.”

Unlike Mt. Rainier, a formidable presence towering into the sky, Chicago appears as a distant mirage. A beckoning.

Kerri has her entire life kept a daily calendar that doubles as a journal. Her calendar makes it possible for us to look back in time and re-member when memory has scrambled experiences. This past weekend Dogga turned 13 years old and we were reminiscing about the events that led us to suddenly have a dog. We were fuzzy on the details so Kerri fetched her calendar and we found ourselves reliving our initial meeting, my near spontaneous move from Seattle to Kenosha, and the moment on the road trip between those two cities, driving a Budget truck loaded with paintings, that we saw a sign for “Aussie pups” and decided to stop. We revisited each day in that wild progression and marveled at how much we’d forgotten or rearranged in our minds. The clouds part. Our life together towers and we are amazed.

What of the road ahead? It is a distant Chicago. I remember my grief on the morning after the election. The ugliness that loomed was hazy on that morning and has become crystal clear in the subsequent months. Masked thugs hauling people into concentration camps. The suspension of due process and habeas corpus. The utter corruption of the Department of Justice and FBI. An all out assault on the vote and right to protest. The collapse of the two party system, the rule of law and co-equal branches of government. The unmasked and unbridled profiteering of a president, his family and his party.

Kerri’s daily calendar entries rarely chronicle the political chaos but captures the details of our passage through it.

We’ve learned much about the underbelly of our nation. We’ve learned much about the bright lights and courageous spirits pushing back while holding the torch of democracy high, inviting hope and lighting a path through this dark time.

Someday, perhaps 13 years from now, we will have grown fuzzy on the details, and will pull out Kerri’s calendar and revisit these days and remember how the people of this nation came together to secure their democracy against a fascist near-takeover. That, at least, is my hope, my dream for our future. The clouds will have parted and we will ask, “Do you remember how the nation came out?”

untitled, 20″x16″ multi media on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about DISTANT CHICAGO

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