Posts Tagged ‘The First 100 Days’

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The April Fool’s edition

April 1, 2017

The editors, who had had entirely enough, gathered in a conference room.

This might harm our reputation, said one who was entirely too thin and devoid of humor.

The people who will get it will think it’s hilarious, said the editor-in-chief, and the ones who don’t get it already think it’s true. I see no risk.

They developed a story budget packed with nonsense. Some of it was funny, some of it wasn’t, but none of it was sourced, none real.

I’ve got your fake news right here, the editor-in-chief said, signing off on the list with a grin.

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The spirit of revolution

March 31, 2017

I’ve known cowards, she said. I’ve known men who did not know enough to know their own minds. But they were so rarely mean-hearted.

He’s not so much cowardly as stupid, he said. I’ve known men like that, and the stupider they are, the meaner they get.

She thought about the man with the blackest heart she knew, about the night she lay crumpled, waiting for him to leave. She thought about all the times she’d said no and had been overridden.

I can’t take much more of this, she said, and the spirit of revolution rose inside her.

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Less blessing, more mask

March 30, 2017

Spring arrived with such powerful perfume I could barely stand to be outside. On my pre-dawn morning walk, it felt as if the world had exploded in blossom, pollen dust shimmering in the glow of the streetlights.

Despite allergies, I tried to breath as deeply as I could, savoring the season’s brevity and beauty, but then I thought about the divisions rotting the nation, the stench of misused power, the long march we’re taking through brimstone, and suddenly it seemed as if the perfume was less blessing and more mask, covering up the odor of politics gone wrong.

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Relief

March 29, 2017

Is it different when the world shifts due to nature, rather than humans? he asked. I wonder what that feels like.

Aren’t humans nature, though? she replied. She felt, every day, as if the very ground shifted beneath her when she read the news.

You know what I’m talking about, he said.

But all she really knew was the feel of the house shifting in an earthquake, the sickness in her stomach as the wineglasses clinked together, and the relief when it stopped. All she really knew was that, now, day after day, relief had ceased to arrive.

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End of the month

March 28, 2017

She knew her toddler should eat more than dry cereal every morning, but she could not afford the waste of half a banana, eight sections of orange. She only gave him what he’d gobble.

It was already hard enough at the end of the month, when she sometimes went a few days without eating more than a slice of bread after the money ran out. Now, said Jimmy from down the block, they might lose healthcare, too.

It can’t get worse, right? she thought. Her baby was asleep, but she would stay awake for hours seeking an answer.

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Dopamine

March 27, 2017

We need you to take this call, Mr. President, they said, but he could hear the tour approaching, the drone of the guide, children’s voices, the thump of feet.

I just want to say hello, he said, and he ducked out, off to welcome the people to the White House, off to tell them how great he was making America, even as he walked away from the work at hand. Governing had never been satisfying, and he wanted to return to the work of glad-handing, of getting that dopamine hit delivered by smiling faces, by clapping, by cheers.

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Cherry blossoms

March 26, 2017

When I arrived, the blossoms were weak. The cherry blossoms are a racket, I said to a colleague. Every year, crazy weather takes them out.

But two days before my departure, I was riding down the hotel elevator, and the woman sharing the ride said, The cherry blossoms popped today!

Outside, I confirmed her report. The trees had transformed from scrubby to magical, the blossoms exploding in the spring sun. While I wasn’t paying attention, the world was changing around me, becoming more beautiful despite my cynical expectation.

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