Edvard Munch: The Vampire II (1895/1902)

We're Not Going Backward
I have avoided making overt political statements in my stories, and not only because politics tend to render stories less timeless. For instance, I did not write a January 6, 2020 story, though I've never tried to hide my affiliations. Like you, I have always believed Trump was a dumpster fire. He represented what was always reprehensible about Americans stretching back before and including Andrew Jackson’s champions, which included some of my forebears. I might be remiss if I missed this opportunity to acknowledge at least that these Exiled Stories, as well as the preceding Grace and Fambly stories, were all created beneath a pall of the possibility that old Mr. Corruption might get reelected. Now, five days before the election, his reelection seems even more impossible than it appeared eight years ago when we were all blindsided by the most catastrophic election returns in the country's history. Trump didn't disappoint my expectations for an instant of his term. He proved inept and incapable, the very soul of terrible. He's only gotten worse since.

But I come here to praise Harris, not to recount Trump's many shortcomings. If he didn't have shortfalls, he wouldn’t have any falls at all, for he's a singularly unimpressive person, a failure by almost every measure; even his purported wealth appears to have been phony. He still owes money to every venue he rented for his 2020 campaign. This campaign only made that debt worse.

Harris has already accomplished what so recently seemed impossible. She's managed in a few scant months to remind us who we were and who we might become again. The seething foreground her opponent foments was never once a threat unless, and of course, we took that noise seriously. She didn't and hasn't, and in the process of taking her opponent unseriously, she's reminded me of who I intended to be. I had been afraid and needed reassurance. I believe we all needed to see a slim woman stand up to that shameful fatcat and his minions as if they couldn't ever lay a hand on her. They haven't. They couldn't. They can't. They will continue to ineffectively rant, but we're well on to their con.

I feel courageous now, American rather than cowardly courageous, the kind that proudly hails instead of disgracing itself. Harris did the impossible. She reignited a flame that most commentators had insisted might never burn again. I could not have been more delighted to vote for Harris and Walz. I have avoided engaging in the traditional catastrophizing Democrats always engage in every four years. I have at times pretended to feel confident that the American character remained intact, that it had only been napping and would be ready to engage again once awakened. I'm awake now that we're not going backward but forward again. Finally!

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Weekly Writing Summary

This Exiled Story recounts how I reconstructed my sense of Belonging after first embodying longing for where I'd been Exiled from.

Cornelis Visscher (II): Abraham verlaat Haran (Abraham leaves Haran], after Jacopo Bassano (1638 - 1702)
"I could not hope to thrive without holding some deep sense of Belonging …"
—
This Exiled Story found me turning into a strange attractor after Joining a lecture series. Unwilling to join a church, a congregation found me instead.

Unknown Artist: Hurdigurdiano joining in the wedding dance of Signora Fisketti (19th Century)
" … a heretical thought for this formerly heartbroken Exile."
—
This Exiled Story found me not knowing how long we would be Exiled but still Cadencing into our new unsettling situation. I've learned that it's better for me if I do not know my future.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir: Near the Lake (1879/80)
"Better if it stays a mystery …"
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This Exiled Story recounts one of the most consequential encounters I've ever experienced. ChanceEncounters might hold the purpose behind being Exiled.

Edvard Munch: Encounter in Space - Original Language Title: Møte i verdensrommet; Original Language Title: Begegnung im Weltall; Former Title: Meeting in Space (1898-1899)
"It’s the purpose to which we are blind that determines what we’ll leave behind."
—
This Exiled story, Carole, recounts how I managed to maintain some semblance of sanity while Exiled, where I suffered from a continuing rather severe case of The Normals.

Jack Gould: Untitled (man talking on telephone, looking down) (c. 1950)
"She was my guardian angel  …"
—
This Exiled Story found me discovering my portal to the necessary timelessness surviving an Exile requires: Reading

Anonymous: A Man Reading (c. 1660)
"I gratefully retained little but the memory of the pleasure I derived when Reading to survive my exile."
—
This writing week took me into the meat of this series. Here, on the other side of these stories, it seems that each of this week's tales disclosed some essence. My Exile could not have happened had it not included what these disclosed: that aching sense of longing so intense that I became that longing, BeLonging; The groups this guy, who would ordinarily refuse to join any club he was invited to join, joined, thereby executing some tremendously fruitful Joinings; a rhythm even emerged from unpromising space, allowing Cadencing; ChanceEncounters enlivened and animated the Exile which would have been otherwise intolerable; my generous therapist, Carole, helped convince me that I hadn't quite gone crazy throughout the Exile; and, finally, a faithful core of my Exiled experience, Reading, that timeless pastime that renders even the Exiled timeless for a while. Thank you for following along.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Exiled, #PureSchmaltz