I’d Save the Tree

plus some poems

One of my natural characteristics is that I have always been solution oriented.

I fixed the family TV whenever it wasn’t working. I got rid of bugs in the family computer (and in the house). When my mom and brother were fighting, I tried to be the mediator, the soother, the fixer. I’ll let my therapist tell you how that played out.

Even when watching a mystery movie with my husband, I’ve identified 3 possible ways the plot will unfold 10 minutes in, without realizing it. I suspect this will become less charming to him as the years go by.

Perhaps even to my detriment, I never look to other people first to solve a problem when I come across it. My brain simply starts getting to work. Over the years I've learned to hone it in a little. When loved ones come to me with their problems, I try to remember to ask first if they are looking for solutions or just need to vent, because otherwise my brain will do what it is apparently wired to do.

I've also added efficiency to the mix. An efficient solution is worth way more than just any old fix. Can't find something in the store? Ask an employee. They're not sure which is the right brand for your needs? Have them call their supervisor on those intra-store phones. (Guesswork has its place, but it is not in home renovation.)

I lay out all the pieces and read the direction manual. I can put together any bureau, dresser, TV stand, bar cart, WiFi router, or kitchen gadget with relative ease. My patience is extremely high for doing things the right way, knowing that a solved problem will come out the other side.

Which is probably why I get excited reading headlines about scientists, environmentalists, climate researchers, medical researchers — anyone doing the tedious work to learn more about something in order to find the most efficient way to fix the problems it causes or help to make it work better for our world.

It’s also probably why, though I was raised Catholic, I have grown to view organized religion as the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory of efficiency and solution. Yet the majority of Americans have now voted for this to be a Christian Capitalist nation. 

Religion in the 21st century is anti-solution. Rather than being a source of positive community or a personal roadmap, it’s become a safety net for fear mongering, shaming, bullying, ignoring problems, and diverting blame.

All week (well, really for this whole election cycle), I’ve been reminded just how much America is a nation of flawed faith.

I read a recent interview with Mike Pence at Dartmouth where he said, “I’m a Christian and a conservative and a Republican, in that order.”

I found myself asking, where does “human” fit in? I put humanity before theology and politics. I always wanted to believe everyone did.

People put so much energy into protecting words in the Bible or the Constitution, but these are man-made things by flawed humans with much less knowledge and resources than we have now.

If you believe in God as the creator of the Universe, why be more focused on defending 2000 year old religious guidelines, and 250 year old country guidelines, than protecting and honoring God’s actual creation – the trees, the oceans, and people?

To me, the most important thing here is the tree. We can’t have life or humanity without it. They are such an integral part of the ecosystem – filtering the air, affecting the soil and the oceans, providing nourishment for plants and animals – all of which needs to be healthy in order for any life on earth to continue to exist. We can’t have any of the other things we cherish without first protecting the tree.

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It’s been a long week of seeing the full spectrum of people’s misogyny, racism, and worst characteristics on display. I’ve started and scrapped this newsletter at least 10 times. I was going to skip this week. But I woke up very early this morning with a racing mind, and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I gave it one more try. I’m sad and angry for a lot of reasons. It helps to organize my thoughts.

Below, I felt like sharing some poems I’ve written over the years that seem relevant to how I’m feeling right now.

Mother Nature

God is a Man but Weather is a Woman 

Seems like history’s worst storms
were all named after women 
Seems like a man scorned
saw an opportunity

Carnage in Brooklyn? Well! 
Must have been those hips
The stone pavement buckled
soon as she walked in

Well, maybe they’re right–
After all, an angry God flooded the earth
Maybe the animals found shelter
by her sound and sway 

Maybe this storm is my Grandmother
overwatering the mint
and tearing up the coast is cousin Rita
missing her children

Maybe when they ask, Woman
would you like to save a metropolis with your love? 
she responds, What do you think I’ve been doing 
all this time?

House Gutters

I’ve only ever known women strong as saints,
women as holy as house gutters
Necessary, yet bemoaned 
by those that rely on their compassion

Catching pests and rogue leaves
Rerouting crucial droplets 
where they’re most needed
Even serving as a place of rest

But considered a nuisance, 
full of slop 
Their care and maintenance met with 
such drudgery 

Even though the house and the grass and the birds 
tell us that this is what holy is: 
Taking on the gross stuff so that
the load bearing wall doesn’t have to

Only Billboards

I'll tell you what I found searching for America: 
Only billboards
Ones that chastise, intimidate, judge
Every interstate peppered with reminders 
that America is meant
to be grateful for suffering

Fourth of July

2022

On this July 4th, I'm thinking of those
who confuse freedom of speech
with the freedom to hate out loud

Of the ones who demand freedom
for themselves, but chastise
freedom of love or choice or body
for someone else

I'm thinking of them with grief
because a life of imprisonment sounds like this:
patching a crumbling wall over and over again,
not for its protection, but because keeping out
the light feels safe and familiar

A wall that can't hold books and art
and all the different layers of love
is not a load-bearing wall,
and no one can force you to patch it
so let it crumble

Sunday School

I know it’s uncomfortable / unlearning everything you were taught / So many things I had to unlearn / Adam and Eve / a seven day creation story / “skinny tastes better” / Had 12 years of Jesus school / but didn’t learn how to use the oven / ‘til I was 22 and it stood between me and my sick mother / going to bed hungry / I don’t remember what I made / only that we woke up from that nightmare / If you ask me now do I have regrets / I sure as hell won’t answer / “sleeping in on Sunday”