Chockful of Hope

notes on the superior court, street fairs, and believing in man

It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.

- Anne Frank

Youse Guys,

This morning, I watched my brother-in-law, Jeff, get inducted into the Superior Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. I was probably still in diapers when I first met Jeff. He and my sister were middle school sweethearts. Calling him my brother-in-law always feels a little ingenuous. He’s been there for as long as I can remember. When I shared with my family that I was engaged to be married, Jeff is who raised a weepy toast that night. I think we’re incredibly lucky, in this treacherous day and age, to have someone so compassionate and ethical inside of one of the most important institutions in a fair and free democracy. Jeff the judge, hoorah!

It was pretty cool to be privy to this ceremony. There were flags and staffs. There was a caller. There was a whole jury box filled with other judges. There was state history shared. There were personal antidotes. I cried. I laughed. I shook a lot of hands afterwards. We even took a family picture, and my 6’2 spouse with a throat tattoo and I with my political poetry blog got to go behind the bench. (!!)

One great historical fact I learned about was the abolishment of the Court of Common Pleas which had been in effect since the 1600s and the subsequent installment of the Superior Court in 1859, which has been the judicial system here in the commonwealth since. In 1859, the legislature of Massachusetts was righteously pissed because the judges were upholding and enforcing the federal fugitive slave act in a free state, which was not very liberty and justice for all. It would be difficult (impossible) to impeach all of these judges individually, so they found a loophole. They abolished the court entirely, and created the Superior Court, where my just brother now has a seat.

It's good to hear about things like this. It’s been a devastating week here in the United States of America. I’m tired. I can’t deliver on my biweekly newsletter. I’m anxious about nuclear war. I’m anxious about people being kidnapped and disappeared. I’m anxious about politicians and their families being assassinated by rightwing nutjobs. I’m exhausted by expecting the worst and still being disappointed by this administration. There aren’t enough Dunkins in this state to feed our tired selves. It’s dark and dim and I have a tendency to live in this darkness instead of seeking my way back into the light.

Today was a good reminder that we the people do have the power. There are ways to abolish entire courts. There is good. There are love stories that work out, like Judge Jeff and my dear dear sister Clover, and how their love and compassion and intelligence and hard work have raised three of the coolest, brightest stars I’ve ever been lucky enough to bask in. There are people who put in decades of work to achieve dreams in a world that thrives and demands instant gratification.

This week has been ugly and scary, and it’s also been beautiful and hopeful. Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) Despite the assassinations and a few isolated rightwing nutjobs, this past weekend’s protests were less violent than I had anticipated. That’s a weird sentence to write. Despite the horrific unthinkable murders, this weekend wasn’t very full of death. I joined my most local No Kings protest on Saturday morning at Pulaski Park where I saw friends and acquaintances and other neighbors I don’t know being brave. I didn’t go to Northampton afterwards, but I heard it was big and well organized, and I love that. At the park, the same place we all had gathered a different rainy Saturday earlier in this long ass year, I noticed far few vocal Trump supporters driving by. There were a few shy thumbs down gestures withe windows rolled up, but even they were far and few between. This isn’t right or normal or safe. More and more of us are waking up every day, I think. I hope we continue to open arms welcome our fellow man in.

After the protest, I went to my favorite event each year of my sweet, silly town: Cultural Chaos. It’s a street fair with local artist booths, and local food trucks, and local bands, and local goats, and local bunnies, and local circus performers, and local interpretive dancers, and local face painters, and locally brewed beer… And so on. I saw all different kinds of people. One of my favorite parts of living in Easthampton, Massachusetts is the variety of abilities I see at all of our public events. There are always many neighbors with a wide range of disabilities who are having the same access to joy as anyone else. I feel so much less self-conscious about my body when I’m around a rich, diverse tapestry of bodies. I also saw a musician who I’ve seen play some pretty big stages that I suspect lives here in town. I think they were behind me in line for some vegan pizza. That’s pretty magic.

So despite the horrors, which are so real and true, there is good art being made, and there are good people working hard and being brave, and there are moments of joy to be eked out. Which I think is really important and maybe I forgot for a minute.

As stupid as it might sound, I have hope. I’m fucking chockful of it.

Here are some moments of human joy and resilience in picture form.

Thanks as always for taking the time to read this work. I know how valuable time is. I think you are brilliant, and bright, and brave. B-B-B-Baby. Wanna share some moments of hope below? I’d love to hear them.

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Honestly, I couldn’t be prouder to be in conversation with youse guys.

I love you,

EBG