Reach For What Is Good [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Inundated as we are in the political darkness, we made an effort to steep our minds and hearts in the positive and seek the affirmation of the light. So, we went to the arts. We spent a few minutes with James Taylor’s Shower The People (listen through to the end when Arnold McCuller sings a back-up vocal that will make you smile-weep) and we bumbled into a duet of You Can Close Your Eyes that James Taylor sings with his son Henry. Heart opening.

I spent some time reading and rereading Horatio’s latest poem, The Real Work. It’s brilliant and a reminder to seek what we love every single day of our time on this earth. His poem was good medicine for what has recently ailed me.

“Never, never, never give up.” These words by Winston Churchill hang in Kerri’s studio. We’ve both been witness to too many gifted artists give up, lay down their brushes, close the lid on their piano, step off the stage. An artist’s life can be a very hard road so a reminder taped to the wall is sometimes the only thing that brings you back to the studio the next day. Never give up.

These days the quote rings loud-and-true with the meaning it was originally intended to carry. The quote is a shortened version of what Churchill said in a speech in 1941 as Britain stood its ground against the Nazis. Today, everyday Americans stand their ground against the attempted fascist takeover of our democracy. As Kerri said last week on the trail, “It’s like a depraved checkmate.” The supreme court, the republican congress, the department of justice…are all in the pocket of the tyrant-wannabe. Loyalty to the man has overtaken loyalty to the Constitution. The last line of defense is a citizenry who refuses to give up on democracy.

Anne Lamott wrote a piece for the Washington Post on the 4th of July. It provided her reasons to celebrate in this time of national shame. “This Friday, my friends and I will celebrate the land that embraces political marches and rallies, the ones so far and those still to come. This is “We the people,” and that is the ultimate and most profound aspect of America. We are going to keep showing up and talking about what needs to be done and what is possible right now.”

The power of the people is the power of the imagination. The power of the arts is to access the heart and ignite the power of the imagination. What we’ve witnessed these many months is an assault on the imagination of democracy, a lie-pact of the mean-spirited and dimwitted, those who lack the courage and conviction – and imagination – of “We the people”.

As we keep showing up and showing up and showing up it is vital to fill our heart-tanks with the words of writers like Anne Lamott, the heart-opening music of musicians like James Taylor and Bruce Springsteen…to intentionally and regularly drink from the sources of light that fire the imagination and help us do more than resist the dark but reach for what is good and right and possible.

read Kerri’s blogpost about NEVER GIVE UP

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“Too Bad, So Sad.” [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

It turns out that the thing that makes capitalism viable is the same thing that makes a democracy healthy: a strong middle class. A stable consumer base is the essential ingredient for social cohesion and constructive civic engagement. It’s Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs: when people are secure in their basic needs they turn their attention to meeting the needs of the community – things like equal rights, education and affordable healthcare; they ask, “What is my purpose?” and “How can I help make the world a better place?”

I’ve long believed that the greatest challenge to our democracy is that one of our political parties – the republicans – simply do not believe in it. The Reagan revolution might as easily be called The Great Erosion of the Middle Class. In the past forty years 50 trillion dollars have moved into the pockets of the top 1%. What was branded as trickle down economics has proven to be – just as economists foretold – pick-pocket economics. If we’ve ever needed proof of the republican’s repudiation of democracy we see it manifest in their Mega-Murder-Bill.

Democracies need a strong middle class. Authoritarian states need to keep their populace poor. They need to eliminate the middle class. That, too, is Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs: when people are trapped in survival-mode, insecure and daily struggling for their basic needs, they cannot focus on making the world a better, safer place. They ask, “How am I going to live another day?” Poverty is an authoritarian’s greatest tool for maintaining their grip on power.

In my lifetime I’ve seen firefighters run into The Twin Towers, an indelible act of courage. Now, I’ve seen an entire political party tuck their tails and vote to rob their constituents to enrich the top 1%* – an extraordinary act of cowardice. A permanent stain. It’s as if the NYC firefighters on September 11 had walked away from the burning buildings, saying, “Too bad, so sad,” and patted each other on the back for a job well done.

Cowardice. Unless, of course, their actual aim is authoritarianism. Then, the systematic decimation of the middle class and callous assault on the social safety net makes perfect sense. It is the ultimate fulfillment of the republican revolution against democracy.**

*They passed their Mega-Murder-Bill. This egregious betrayal of their constituents will most certainly haunt them in the next election. The threat of being “primaried” if they voted against the bill presented, at best, a conundrum, since both paths lead to the loss of their seat. The only possible way that their choice of constituent-betrayal makes sense is if they believe that they will never have to run in another election: in the face of such extreme cowardice, the suspension of free and fair elections cannot be far behind.

**To be fair, they might actually believe in democracy – but just not for everyone. When they read, “All men are created equal” they very likely understand that ideal to only include wealthy white men who claim to be Christian while ignoring all of its precepts. No matter, a wealthy ruling class rigging the system and exploiting the labor that makes their bloated-money-hoard possible is authoritarianism regardless of the label they paste on their back-slapping boy’s club.

read Kerri’s blogpost about COWARDICE

smack-dab © 2025 kerrianddavid.com

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That Is Everything [David’s blog on KS Friday]

On these unseasonably hot summer days, Dogga can be found lounging by the air conditioner. Surrounded by his favorite toys, snowman, candy cane, baby, bone and red, he basks in the artificial arctic breeze. He is, by nature, a snow dog. Winter is his preferred season, snow is his favorite couch.

Today, the 4th of July, is his twelfth birthday. We can hardly believe it since it seems like only yesterday that, while watching the Dog Dock Jump at the local 4th festivities, we talked of someday having a dog. In our telling of the story – we are artists, after all – Dogga was born at the exact moment that we were dreaming of him. I had not yet moved to the Midwest: three months later, driving the Budget truck across the country, loaded with all my worldly possessions (paintings, an easel and a chair), we saw a sign for “Aussie Pups” and, promising that we’d only pet the puppies, we stopped.

Dogga and I moved into our new home at the same time.

We’ve grown grey beards together. Neither one of us runs as fast or tolerates the heat like we used to. He enjoys standing in the middle of the backyard barking in the four directions just to see if anyone barks in reply. I sometimes feel like this blog is my version of doing the same thing.

He has grown to fear loud noises, thunder and fireworks, so we stay close-by on his birthday, on the 4th of July. And, truth be told, hanging with Dogga is more fun than watching the Dog Dock Jump or the Pie Eating Contest or cooing at the fireworks with the crowd. His enthusiasm is infectious. His bright eyes and open face, his unbridled joy, remind me of the good things in the world. His agenda is not hidden: it is loving us.

He is our reason to celebrate – simple, pure and honest – at a time that a dark shadow clouds our nation’s celebration, a time when almost nothing is simple, pure or honest.

Our agenda is loving him – on his birthday and everyday. That is all. That is everything.

DIVINE INTERVENTION on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about DOGGA

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An Oasis of Comfort [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Don’t be surprised if you find us in the store, eyes closed, delighting in the scent of the Warmies – those cute cuddly stuffed animals filled with lavender. My favorite is the sloth. Kerri is fond of the bear. They provide a dose of instant calming. They are serenity found in an unlikely place, an oasis of comfort in aisle 9.

Tranquility is hard to come by these days. Each day, inundated as we are in the politics of hate, I search for tranquility in words and sometimes find it – momentarily – in a poem or the heart-touching-story of a fortuitous puppy adoption. I am buoyed by writers from Rumi to James Baldwin, keepers of our conscience, sirens to kindness.

But for lasting peace of mind it is necessary to break beyond words. Nothing beats the senses for a call into the immediate, the only place where contentment can be found: the smell of basil, the cooling evening breeze after a blistering hot day. The delightful chirp of a hummingbird as it zips overhead. The distant foghorn underscoring the cry of seagulls. The vibrant colors of the sky transitioning into night. Lavender. Rosemary. Onions and garlic sauteing. The first sip of bold red wine. The Warmies on the grocery store shelf.

I used to lead an exercise in which people would face a partner. Standing a few feet apart, the instruction was to be present-with-the-other. No words were allowed – so no fortress of distraction could be erected. Simply see and be seen. A few minutes would feel like an eternity as the impulse to hide and deflect and control slowly surrendered to the scary vulnerability of presence. The fortification, the hyper-management of image fell away. Only then could the beauty break through the mask. Unprotected, the partners would either weep or laugh or both. Seen. Seeing. In presence the tide turned. Serenity was discovered in a most unlikely place. An oasis of comfort found in the eyes of the other.

Only then could the real conversation begin.

a detail of a work in progress

read Kerri’s blogpost about LAVENDER

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Look Closely [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Look closely. The dill wilts under the heat dome. Unusually high temperatures and humidity leave it unprotected.

Look closely. Once upon a time we enjoyed an FCC policy called The Fairness Doctrine. It was also known as the “truth in media” regulation. It required broadcast media to present contrasting viewpoints on controversial issues. It was intended to promote public discourse while preventing biased media agendas. It was largely successful. Rupert Murdoch hated it. Ronald Reagan repealed it. “The demise of this FCC rule has been cited as a contributing factor in the rising level of party polarization in the United States.” The demise of The Fairness Doctrine stimulated the divisive info-bubbles that we now inhabit. It opened the door for the rise of the toxic Murdoch fox and his ultra-conservative copycats. It has left us unprotected.

Look closely. We did not arrive here by accident. Party polarization. Divisive echo chambers. Biased media agendas. The absence of civil public discourse. 24/7 commentary and opinion uprooted from reality and meant to foster outrage. It’s fertile ground for dark money purchasing politicians and supreme court justices.

Look closely: the celebration of media bias. The interruption – the dismantling – of public discourse. The unbridled magnification and normalization of lies. Polarization is great for profiteers but deadly to democracy.

Our media carries the story we tell ourselves about ourselves. Are we really hyper-biased, polarized liars so enraged that we’re incapable of public discourse? Is there truly no common ground?

Look closely. The regulation of traffic – the law – makes us capable of safe travel. The regulation does not inhibit us. It fosters necessary cooperation. Building codes are regulations ensuring that our dwellings and places of business are safely constructed. The regulations do not inhibit us – they protect us. They establish and maintain a high quality standard.

A regulation like The Fairness Doctrine was neither conservative nor progressive. It didn’t inhibit us. It ensured that we were not made victim to bad information. It established a standard for truth-in-media and engendered respect for differing perspectives.

We know how to exit our echo chambers. We know how to ensure that we are acting – and voting – on unbiased information. Healthy public discourse is the epicenter of our democracy. Healthy public discourse relies on truthful information and civil debate. We know how to foster a better field of discourse and it requires adequate regulation meant to prevent media exploitation and manipulation.

Regulation. The Constitution is a document of regulations. It is neither conservative nor progressive, it establishes simple rules for how we safeguard our values, how we live and thrive together. Breaching the boundaries, ignoring the law, like removing all traffic laws, serves to expedite our confusion and fiery demise.

Look closely. Granting presidential immunity from law is a breach. Eliminating due process and habeas corpus is a breach. Consolidating power in the executive branch is a breach. We are unprotected. ICE plucks innocent people from the streets. Congress intends to pass a bill – make a law – that impoverishes the many to enrich the few.

Integrity is the word that comes to mind. It has two relevant meanings. First, having strong moral principles. Moral principles are akin to regulations – they define shared values and provide the basis for society’s laws. They foster cooperation. The second meaning is unity. Wholeness is a result of a shared story based on common values and moral principles. The second meaning of Integrity – unity – is the blossom of the first. Division and discord are the blossoms of the collapse of shared values and breaches of communal moral principles.

It’s worth asking again: are we really hyper-biased, polarized liars so enraged that we’re incapable of public discourse? Do we really hold our democracy so lightly? Or have we been poisoned by the biased toxic fables we daily consume from the free-for-all media-stream? Are we intoxicated on the outrage daily pumped into our brains from a media the grows wealthy on our dysfunction?

Look closely. We are unprotected.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WILTED DILL

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The Composition of a Life [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

I cut the post I wrote for today. The image of this Dianthus flower is too beautiful for the thoughts I paired with it. The color of this flower kills me. The composition of this photograph would make Georgia O’Keeffe smile.

I reminded myself to not miss the beauty-of-the-moment in the middle of the national horror story we currently experience.

Chris has been on a quest for 15 years to develop a play based on Viktor Frankel’s book, Man’s Search For Meaning. A few days ago he took another step forward. He’s knocking on the door of his dream. Viktor Frankel was a Holocaust survivor and the book is based on his experiences in the camp. He makes a distinction that is relevant for us today: we have the choice to either seek meaning from our experiences or to bring meaning to our experiences. Our chances of survival are better if we bring rather than seek meaning – especially in a time, like ours, when amorality and cruelty have the reins of power. It’s hard to find meaning in the wasteland.

It’s the reason I cut my post. I was seeking meaning from the rapid collapse of our democracy rather than bringing a greater meaning to this moment-in-time.

We put the air conditioner in the window because our old Dogga suffers in the heat. Last night he was laying in his now-usual-spot directly in front of the fan blowing cold air. I sat next to him and rubbed his ears. I cannot describe the enormity of what I felt in that moment. It was more necessary, more important than anything rolling across our screens.

As I write this a bird – a house finch – is scratching at the window just behind where I am sitting. It is literally six inches from my head. I can see into its eyes. And it is looking into mine.

The color of this Dianthus kills me.

I cannot stop the national slide into autocracy. I can control where I choose to place my focus and there’s so much around me that would be a shame to miss. It’s the composition of a life that would make Georgia O’Keeffe – and Viktor Frankel – nod with silent approval.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DIANTHUS

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The Glue That Binds [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

It’s such a small line of distinction yet the implications are profound. Our mechanic, Steve, believes that he is rendering a service to members of his community. His goal – his ethic – is to do good work for the people who trust him with their cars. Consequently, he has a loyal following and a solid, healthy business. Visit Steve’s shop and you’ll find an old guy sitting in an easy chair reading the paper. No one is in a hurry. Ask a question and Steve will stop what he’s doing and come look under your car. Then, he’ll chat with you about the weather or politics or swap stories about what the kids are up to. Steve won’t try to sell you what you don’t need. Leave your car with him and more often than not, after the repair, your car magically shows up in your driveway.

I always feel good after a visit with Steve.

Across the town is a specialty shop. They do work that Steve can’t do – or won’t do – in his small garage. He used to refer clients when they needed specialty work done on their cars. Not anymore. The owner of that shop is hyper-focused on how to maximize his business so, now, if you take your car to the specialty shop, you’ll be presented with a long list of repairs that your car may or may not need. The owner of this shop is no longer driven by a service ethic; he’s driven by a profit motive. He’s definitely maximizing his business.

There is a line of distinction and it is as simple as this:

I believe what we’ve lost, what we are now missing, is what Steve embodies: a genuine service motive. It’s an old world mentality, a small town ethic: work as service to others. Social cohesion is the result of people dedicated to serving other people. You can feel it at Steve’s shop. It’s personal. People gather there. Trust is a given.

On the other side of the line is the specialty shop. It’s a mill. Business is business and business is about making money rather than caring for the needs of the customer. You can feel it. It’s become impersonal. The lobby is like an elevator: no one talks. Trust is not a given: the work is hyper-efficient, factory-esque, so customers leave doubting the quality of the workmanship because the customer is no longer the center of the equation. Cha-ching is now the boss.

Social cohesion is the casualty of business dedicated to the bottom line above the people they serve.

And isn’t social cohesion what we are lacking?

We can serve each other – the very thing that makes a community and nation great. Or, we can exploit each other – the very thing that divides a community and erodes its trust. I believe that all of those angry red-hat-wearing-fox-news-watching folks want the same thing that I want: more Steves. They – like me – don’t want to be continually exploited, demeaned, and reduced by gorilla corporate interests who use us as a resource to be consumed and not a customer to be served. We want a government that serves the people rather than lines corporate pockets. More trust.

In the afterward of her book, Michelle Obama thanks the many, many people who supported her with the double entendre, “I am glad for you.” It is the encapsulation of a service motive. The first meaning of the double: For you I am glad. Your work made me a better writer, a better person. I could not have done this without you. Your service on my behalf matters more than I can express.

Meaning number two: I celebrate you. I serve your betterment just as you serve mine. We give generously to each other because Generosity – service – is the glue that binds us: social cohesion.

It’s a simple line of distinction. It is profound.

read Kerri’s blogpost about GLAD FOR YOU

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A Mighty Bleak Picture [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

“The American people just got a taste of authoritarianism wrapped in judicial robes. In a stunning 6-3 ruling this week, the Supreme Court greenlit the mass deportation of immigrants, not to their home countries but to third nations where they have no legal status…Whether it’s a camp outside Kraków or a deportation center in Guatemala, the strategy is the same: create a zone of moral invisibility. A legal no-man’s-land where acts that would outrage decent people become routine, because they happen far away, beyond the reach of media, law, and conscience.” ~Thom Hartmann, Moral Cleansing, American Style, June 25, 2025

A zone of moral invisibility. Hear no evil, see no evil. Poof! Not only do the people disappear but so does our responsibility. So do our rights since due process was a right that applied to all people, not just citizens. Note for emphasis: I just wrote the word “was” in reference to a fundamental right that no longer “is”. The Supreme Court, supposed guardians of our Constitution – protectors of our fundamental rights – just discarded the 14th Amendment:

…nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

And along with discarding due process, habeas corpus goes with it. Wrongful imprisonment with no recourse is now – according to six members of our Supreme-Kangaroo*-Court – permitted in The United States of America.

We are officially no longer a government of laws; we are by this ruling a government of whim.

You may think this only affects immigrants. But consider: the legal precedent now exists for the government to forcibly remove someone from U.S. soil and drop them in another country without due process. Today it’s asylum seekers. Tomorrow, who knows?” ~ Thom Hartmann

What’s gonna happen? I don’t know. No one does – but if history provides a clue it paints a mighty bleak picture.

*Kangaroo Court (noun) – an unofficial court held by a group of people in order to try someone regarded, especially without good evidence, as guilty of a crime or misdemeanor.

read Kerri’s blogpost about I DON’T KNOW

smack-dab © 2025 kerrianddavid.com

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Show Up! [David’s blog on KS Friday]

They young reveler looked at me and shouted over the music, “It’s great seeing you here!” He offered a fist bump and guided me through the secret handshake that followed the bump. We laughed.

At first I was puzzled. I didn’t know him at all yet he was genuinely delighted to see me. And then it occurred to me. In his eyes I am old. My beard is gray. He was happily surprised to find an old guy dancing in the raucous sweaty crowd at Chicago PRIDE.

Kerri leaned forward and told him – well, shouted over the throbbing thunderous music – that the performer on the stage was our son. The young reveler looked like she just slapped him. “WHAT?!” he exclaimed. He turned and told his friends. They looked at us as if hell had just frozen over – a remarkable metaphor since it was 105 degrees at 7:30 pm. Parents at PRIDE! Parents celebrating and supporting their son! Impossible! Unimaginable! Fist bumps, high-fives! The young reveler shook my hand enthusiastically saying, “No Way!! No Way!!”

Their dancing resumed, more enthusiastic, more joyful, in a world made new with wondrous possibility. The word spread. Proud parents were at PRIDE, dancing! Hunky boys fanned Kerri to keep her cool. She stood on the curb so she could take pictures of the stage above the festive crowd. “You’re Craig’s Mom!” I heard declared again and again. More hugs and introductions.

Later, exhausted, on the train ride home, Kerri said, “I think it was really important that we showed up.” I knew what she meant. We unintentionally showed up for more than Craig’s performance.

I thought of something the MC said to crowd after Craig’s set, “Are you going to take care of your trans brothers and sisters? Are you going to take care of each other?” he asked. The crowd cheered and he added, “Remember, if one of us is marginalized, all of us are marginalized.” Words of caution made more relevant – and poignant – by the manufactured hatred of our times. The demonization of “the other” marginalizes all of us.

Now, more than ever, it matters that we show up for each other. I was heartened by the No Kings protests. I am heartened each time a community shines a light on masked ICE agents and shames them away from brutalizing yet another human being. Our presence – our witness – in this moment matters more than we will ever understand.

CONNECTED on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about PRIDE

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Cycles Of Change [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“Wars and temper tantrums are the makeshifts of ignorance; regrets are illuminations come too late.” ~ Joseph Campbell, The Hero With A Thousand Faces

It is a warm evening. The breeze has shifted and comes off the lake, blessed cool. The bird alights on the pinnacle of our roof. Like us it pauses in the refreshing breeze. It drinks it in and rests. This image, this moment, is ancient and I am taken by it.

In the midst of the chaos of the country, the seeming unprecedented circumstances we now face, it is somehow comforting (to me) to remember that no one escapes the cycles of mythology. Mythology is a universal growth pattern, cutting across culture, delivered through story. It is a human-life-map. It is unwise to confuse mythology with make-believe.

Our collapse of moral authority in leadership is not unique in history. Neither is the rise of our tyrant. Neither is the corruption of our court Supremes or the silent cowardice of Congress. We follow a historical pattern just as we perform a mythological cycle.

The Roman Empire fell for much the same reasons that the American Experiment is now wobbling: political corruption, the widening gap between the haves and have-nots eroding social cohesion (maga, the impact of inanity like “trickle-down-economics”, unfair taxation, granting “personhood” to corporations…), the exploitation of division, overspending on the military, limits imposed on innovation and education (the impact of DOGE and the decimation of research among other things).

When servant leadership is upended by self-serving-leadership, the path becomes explicit. It doesn’t happen all it once. It is gradual, this erosion of the foundation takes time. This is a mythological death.

Of course, each death signals the birth of something new. As Joseph Campbell wrote of times like these, it is wrongheaded and naive to try and go back in time to capture some imaginary heyday. It is equally misguided to try to force the fulfillment of some imagined ideal. Both facilitate dismemberment.

Our protests of autocracy, our resistance to brutality, plant the seeds of our transfiguration. We will never restore our democratic republic as we’ve known it. Neither will we fulfill it as first conceived: exclusive; democracy for the few. Fire transforms and what will emerge from this hot collapse is anybody’s guess. I will probably not live long enough to see it. Gestation like this takes time, too.

However, I take heart knowing that the cycle will eventually present us with a new generation of servant leaders, people who rise from the wreckage and sacrifice personal gain for the common good. People who were transformed by this current fire. They will carry in their hearts the pain of their ancestors’ regret.

The bird on the pinnacle served as a herald of that distant day. The wind shifts, cutting through the heat, bringing with it sweet relief and the promise of the cycles of change.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BIRD

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