29th September, 2018 Saturday
In Memoriam For The Baby Chicken and Friend Chicken 3/22/18 -9/29/18
Tea is green and dreams were distant.
I have a YouTube video running of the full Ford/Kavanaugh Thursday thing. Dr. Ford is absolutely believable to me. I am biased, certainly, as I watch this circus of thinly veiled coverup tactics opposite Dr. Ford’s searing steady accounting not only of the experience with Kavanaugh but also of her organized and very clearly presented history of therapy associated with this trauma, her description of the feeling of the derailing of her ability to track successfully through the first five years afterwards, and the areas of difficulty she has carried forward since, my gut tells me we are witnessing not only honesty but heroism in Dr. Ford’s testimony in that room on Thursday.
We have come a long way. The Republican Guard’s tactics to try to discredit Dr. Ford, those age old, traditional acts of subtle sabotage were not sweeping her back in the closet as they did 27 years ago for poor Anita Hill.
I am astounded at the percentage of assault victims in our population. One of every three women and one of every six men are the statistics Senator Feinstein brought to the proceedings. I have had several conversations in the last few days with perspectives on both sides that are eager for any chance to voice their opinion if not their personal experiences of secreted assault, all of those riddled with the victims’ fear of retaliation or the dehumanisation of the categorical refutation of their claims on the part of their abusers who are perceived to have total power to thwart every avenue of accountability the victim might pursue.
I know this position well. I see through the Good Old Boy Club tactics because I have seen it up close and personal as so many of us have. Remember that statistic, one third of our female population and one sixth of our male population have been victims and two thirds of all assaults are never reported. That’s a whole helluvalot of skeletons in a whole helluvalot of abuser’s’ closets. That’s a whole helluvalot of victims who know what the liars look like.
And boy, Kavanaugh read like one big time. Grassley’s MCing of the event read like a dinosaur from the dark ages of lets turn a blind eye because we can’t let this Pandora out of her box cause we all are screwed then. Remember, our President has a lineup of 19 accusers waiting their turn to be heard. Ya the death knell for the Republican Majority and Trump’s Presidency is beginning to sound at Clarion levels.
Remember, we have raised at least two generations now who were taught as children to sound the alarm at inappropriate adult contact. And there are laws in place to protect them in the system. That’s another whole helluvalot of voters coming into the pipeline that will shut this shit down now.
I am hopeful, yes, my faith in the inherent humanity in the American population is beginning to spark from the embers it has retreated to in the last 22 months since Trump’s election.
As difficult as this is to live through it is astounding and validating that we are indeed in a new Era of Humanity. If it took the last several years of the Republican Majority’s disgusting reign and its insane support of Trump’s incompetence to finally heave this shit out of the dark into the light, then I am truly grateful for having lived through it.
No, I am not despairing, and I do not see Brett Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court.
Well, roaster chickens went to harvest today. SIL’s dear Papa came with his big white truck to help haul so he’s now dubbed Knight In Shining Armour in his big White Steed. Oldest, SIL and Knight all rose at 3 am and departed shortly after. Arrived back home with all those packaged roasters.
But sadly The Flock of Seven lost last night. Although Fierce Chicken and Fierce Friend Chicken joined the Flock as their companions went to Harvest, our two first Roaster Laying hens, The Baby Chicken and Friend Chicken, were dispatched by something hungry in the dark. It is a difficult thing to feel happy at the Harvest as we have lost two dear chicken friends.
My Oldest is so distraught, her heart embraced those chickens and she gave them both the best pecking chicken life ever to have blessed any pecking chicken. She misses them so sorely as they were her chicken friends. I see the child she was in her sorrowing all grown up guise. I want to sweep her in my arms and let her cry and cry until she’s done and wanders off to love on something else as she always does. I am so sorry for your dear dear loss.
I wandered down just now to catch the Flock of Five, reshuffled as they are. and Thanksgiving and Christmas ensconced in their chicken camp beneath my Mighty Oak Tree Friend. When I came back into the house, I found The Wizard and the Mighty Dappled Duckle and the Zoi waiting for their Mama to come back.
We have an invitation to a neighbor’s garden party we are getting ready to attend. We are bringing chicken.
The day has gone from late summer mild to gray and wind whipped autumn.
Ta.
Tea With Me 