Epiphany Wednesday

 

I may have to reconsider Spring as my favourite season after this March and April unless NEO can get its weather under control. (80 degrees one day; 50 and rain the next! How about frost overnight?) It's been one shitful migraine after another, and I lost so many days of walking and Being A Person that I cannot even stand to think about it. A steroid pack finally gave me some relief after one particular migraine episode held me prisoner for 5 full days. 

And so on.

Anyway.

As I kept telling Rick--and myself--"Bet I don't die from it." And here we are.

On Wednesday I was feeling terrific. Finally able to go out for walks again, I was loving the flowering trees everywhere, magnolia, crabapple, redbud, cherry and weeping cherry, pear, and apple. Lilacs have started to bloom, and their scent was everywhere, along with hyacinths. Daffodils and bright red and yellow tulips (the only ones safe from squirrels) are flourishing. 

I had a doctor's appointment where I was pronounced Perfect. I love my doctor, a warm but brisk woman who is genuine and kind. She laughs with me and tells me that she loves talking with me; that I'm always so real. I left there feeling buoyant and grateful.

On the way home, exactly at the place where Rick had his accident, a car ran the stop sign and pulled out in front of me. I jammed on the brakes and thudded to a stop not 3 feet from its passenger side with no time to look in my rearview mirror to see if anyone was behind me. It continued blithely on its way. 

Fortunately, no one was behind me. I merely continued driving down the road behind the person who almost caused me to hit him. We went on that way for about a half mile until that car turned off and I went home. Rick met me on the patio, and I sat down on a chair beside him, suddenly overcome with what had happened.

I told him about the near miss. I told him that right then, what I wanted to do was to go get freshened up and then head over to the neighborhood brewery to get a drink and try to relax. "I was so happy. I got such a good report from the doctor, too. And...it's just that I have so much to lose now," I said, thinking especially of Theo. "It wouldn't even have been my fault."

We soon headed up to the brew pub. A former student of mine, J, is the manager, and we've gotten to know everyone there. I settled in, chatting and sipping, and soon a gentleman and his Chihuahua came in. He grabbed a seat next to us, plopped his dog in one, too, and barked an order for "whatever is six bucks" at the bartender. He then proceeded to complain to J about the high prices "just for one beer. It's ridiculous when you can get a six pack of Pabst or Bud Light for that price." He then turned to Rick and me. "You know what I mean? Don't you think?"

Rick and I both answered. We love supporting small businesses, and we're happy that this brewery moved in and want it to do well. We like the people. We mentioned those things along with the fact that we think C, who is the owner and brewer, is an artisan and makes terrific craft beers. All those things are good for the community/city.

He waved our comments away impatiently. "Oh, I know C. I've been coming here since it opened. But what the heck is he doing, charging so much? And what about cans? Don't you got anything in cans?"

J tried to explain that putting the beer in cans has gotten too expensive, then had to wait on someone else. Rick jumped in and explained that it required paying another company for labor and materials. I explained that because of tariffs, the cost of aluminum is especially prohibitive now, and that C offers refillable glass growlers as an alternative.

I'm sure you can guess what happened next. The buzzword Tariff was all he needed to hear. He automatically assumed all of us were felon rapist supporters, and made a complimentary comment regarding him. Then he said, "I don't know if you're in favor of him or not, but--"

"Not at all," I said. 

"No, we're not," Rick said.

What followed from there was what he wanted to call "just a discussion," but was mainly a sad parroting of ignorance and maga talking points, all of which I deftly, calmly, respectfully refuted, and he countered with blatantly false bullshit. At one point Rick touched my elbow, said "Nance" sotto voce, and tried to get me to stop. "You came here to relax, remember."

But I wasn't going to just stop because that's where we make our mistake. We back down and we shake our head and we just. stop. And to Them, that's a victory. They think they've won, and in a way, they have. So I just kept at him. And at him. I slapped back at all his bullshit and made him eat it. And not once did I lose my temper or my composure or my dignity. Actually, it was like being in the classroom. I had some teaching to do, and I was keeping it real. In about five minutes he took his six-dollar beer and wandered outside. 

One of the bartenders thanked me. Tending bar is a part-time gig for her. She's a federal worker for the VA; she works from home and is terrified she will be in the next round of cuts. My former student J hugged me and told me again that she loves me. The other bartender said, "I was listening to the whole thing. You were great and we hate that guy."

You'd think at this age, I wouldn't have too many epiphanies left, but Wednesday proved that wrong. I've spent 48 years of my life fighting migraines. Each time I get one, I feel a little bit like a failure, but I still fight it and fight it. I've spent longer than that fighting ignorance and injustices big and small. And I've fought in many arenas for the good of my family. And my students. On Wednesday something happened that could have taken it all away, something completely out of my control. That just makes me more determined to fight the battles I can impact that much harder.

*my image, a truck I saw at a train crossing