An August angst settled over me like an old, moth-eaten, wool blanket. The air was heavy with haze, heat, and humidity. There was so much negative news, I pondered where the human-interest stories were hiding. As the sun sank over the horizon each evening, I wondered whether I was hearing fireworks or firearms. I am fond of neither.
Vermont held its breath on August 9 for our primary election. We made the national news. Some are celebrating, and others are shedding tears. The results reflect the nation’s deep divisions, accentuated by Vermont’s requirement that voters vote in only one party’s primary—no cross-overs until the general election in November. Even more will be at stake on the ballot then with two proposed constitutional amendments up for ratification. One outlaws slavery. The other guarantees reproductive liberty. I will vote “yes” for both. We need some healing hope.
It it porching season in Vermont. Sitting with friends and family on the porch for many of us is as close as we come to air conditioning. Where I live, the view is an additional soothing salve. Porching has been especially popular during COVID. We are hungry for connection before the snow flies and winter’s many more months of isolation. Porches are perfect for in-person Graceful Mischief for The Common Good.
I pull my chair around, allowing my guests to enjoy the view and me to see their unmasked faces. We swap stories that are close to our hearts—the ones that seldom make the news. From fond memories, to current projects, to aspirations for the future, I feel the gift of connection and collective wisdom. Words land in my heart for safekeeping until it cracks open again when I reshare the stories.
It nourishes my soul to connect with people who are creating positive new possibilities in the world, locally and globally. Weaving community fabric helps me reimagine surviving chaos into welcoming diversity as a transformative part of healing the whole.
A couple of weeks ago, David Simas, President of the Obama Foundation, sat on my front porch with me and my colleague, Will. It was a fascinating, intergenerational conversation. David stopped here on his way to observe a Vermont Council on Rural Development Community Meeting in a small, Northeast Kingdom town. After he left, I asked Will for his thoughts. He said, “David gives me hope.”
I sent David an email of gratitude and mentioned Will’s comment. He responded, “It’s kind of Will to say what he did. Hope is a necessary prerequisite for any meaningful action. It’s not naïve. It’s rooted in understanding the progress others have made, no matter how incremental, and applying those lessons and examples to the choices you face. As my old boss, Deval Patrick, was fond of saying, ‘Hope for the best, and work for it!’”
This hope feels healing. Please pass it on.