The moon rose behind naked deciduous trees.
Illuminated and bright white, the atmosphere blurred the view in a way vision did not.
Night is coming and with it restlessness and yearning…
For something once held in my hands… now gone.
People I know are disturbed about the election of Donald Trump as president. His transition team is a leaky bucket so we know some of what’s going on in Trumpland. His first steps don’t look good for anyone, including people who rallied around him. They will be freaking out sooner than expected as the president-elect struggles to deliver on campaign promises. It’s only five days after the election.
I live in a privileged enclave the affluence of which is driven by the largest of Iowa’s state universities and a few medium-sized businesses. Since moving to Big Grove Township in 1993 I’ve held the county seat at arms length as best I could. Iowa City is where I attended college, met my wife, got married, and witnessed the birth of our daughter. I have memories of my time there — most of them are good.
Eight of 58 precincts in Johnson County, including ours, voted for Donald Trump. Those who assert the county is monolithic in its liberalism paint with a broad brush. Their canvass looks neat — well contained within its edges. Like all products of imagination and technique such portraiture is more aspiration than reality. I’d rather live midst swing voters, small business operators, low-wage workers, and young men and women with imperfect lives. I’ve been with them so long it seems like home.
Tonight I’m drawn to the moon with its inconstant orbit outside the frame of a 24-hour day. As it sets over my shoulder this morning, giving way to sunrise, I’m reminded of this:
O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
~ Romeo and Juliet, Act Two, Scene Two in Capulet’s Orchard