Accountability in Minneapolis

Oliver and I clutched each other’s hands this afternoon as we waited for the verdict in the George Floyd-Derek Chauvin trial to be read by the judge. Jack texted from crew practice to check in. The original estimation was that we’d hear between 3:30 and 4, but as the minutes ticked past 4, 4:15, we got antsy. A friend told me that Minneapolis had released kids early from school and was trying to make sure all were home, should the verdict not go the way of justice.

That’s heartbreaking, really. On so many levels.

Suddenly, the CNN talking heads segued to the courtroom. Oliver and I squeezed our bound hands so tightly that they began to sweat.

Count 1: 3rd degree murder.

Guilty.

Count 2: 2nd degree murder.

Guilty.

Count 3: 2nd degree manslaughter.

Guilty.

All the while, Chauvin’s eyes darted from jury to judge and back again. That murderous bastard in his baby blue tie.

Guilty on all three counts. Ol and I hugged. I texted Jack who was enormously relieved.

And THEN the judge revoked bail and remanded Chauvin to jail. As he was led out of the courtroom in handcuffs, texts from friends began pouring in-“Thank god.” “Finally.” “Thank the lord.”- and I started to cry. Soft tears of gratitude for this bit of accountability. For the bit of peace or closure it might provide Floyd’s family, his friends, his community, Minneapolis, a city that is still reeling from Floyd’s murder in May of 2020 and from Daunte Wright’s murder just last week, also at the hands of police.

Earlier today, I was in the car and got to listen to most of this excellent 1A episode about the Chauvin trial. It’s worth your time. The stats on police violence are staggering, and the point made that even though we all watched, too many times, as Chauvin killed Floyd over those interminable 9 minutes and 27 seconds, the outcome of the trial remained unclear up to the end is a terrible indictment on the racism in America and the way it persists and poisons everything, including our system of “justice” and those who are tasked with protecting and serving us.

This case should have been a slam dunk. Black Americans should not have to hold out hope for brave teenagers to record murders on their phones in order to get justice. Chauvin has been held accountable, and rightly so. But too many aren’t, and so real justice remains elusive. We must keep fighting.

And, if you didn’t hear Minnesota AG Keith Ellison’s statement after the verdict was read and Chauvin taken away, please do. It’s superb.

25 August 2020: Daily

I took the boys to Vermont last week for a brief getaway. Growing up, Mom and Dad took us to Woodstock several times to experience white Christmases, and I have an enormous spot in my heart for the town still. As it turns out, a friend from the boys’ summer camp lives on a farm in the next town over from Woodstock and invited us to visit.

It was such a wonderful delight to show the boys around Woodstock and Quechee, going with them to many of the very places my sister and I loved as children (and also discovering new haunts, like Mon Vert Cafe [fab] and the simple-but-delicious sandwiches at The Butcher Shop). Unfortunately, both kids had bad falls from a rope swing, and Oliver came home with a mild concussion, but if you ever find yourself needing emergency care in that area, haul ass to Mt. Ascutney which is literally the nicest, friendliest, sweetest hospital ever. Oliver’s injury was really terrifying for both Jack and me, but the three of us were the best crew, and I felt inordinately grateful for Jack’s strength and help as I do for the care Oliver received and the recovery he’s had since. He’s doing great! I also appreciate that Tom flew up on Friday to help me drive home as I was completely wiped out from the stressful night at the hospital and the relatively sleepless night after.

I was very sorry to miss the DNC, though I have tried to watch some of the speeches since returning home. I have made every effort to completely avoid the grotesque, histrionic spectacle of lies and revisionist history coming out of the RNC this week. Instead, I’ve enjoyed fundraising for Dem Senate candidates, organizing for the Get Your Knees Off Our Necks march this Friday, and helping get the boys ready for school. Jack is starting 9th grade which is somewhat hard to believe but also isn’t at all as he just seems so capable and grown up these days. My baby’s taller than I am! I am totally overwhelmed by the fact that both kids will be learning from home through January, at least. Send vibes.

Meanwhile, my parents have boarded up their home and evacuated as the hurricanes race towards southern Louisiana, and I am outraged and horrified by the shooting of Jacob Blake in Kenosha, Wisconsin, by police earlier this week. They shot him EIGHT TIMES IN THE BACK, IN FRONT OF HIS KIDS, at point-blank range. He is now paralyzed from the waist down. I am disgusted and furious and so sad. Black Lives Matter, and until America reconciles with its past and present, educates its people, and makes amends, nothing will change, and that is disgraceful.

Please work every day until the election to do something, anything, to ensure a fair and free election, to turn the tide Blue and sane and educated and patriotic. Our lives depend on it.

13 August 2020: A friend shot in Portland, save the USPS, daily

Y’all, this past Friday, while awaiting delivery of a case of wine, I received this message just before 7p.

People, HOW does any company think it can get away with this nonsense in this day and age in America? We are all always home and, certainly, the four of us were on Friday.

THINK! Update! It’s like the email I just received letting me know that my application to serve as an election judge has been accepted. I am thrilled to serve as an election worker this November, but, unlike the email stated, the next election is not June 2, 2020. It is, DUH, November 3, 2020. 81 days from now, 80 if you receive this tomorrow. I know we’re all tired and borderline nuts, but damn. This shit is serious.

Speaking of serious shit: Kamala. Kamala is a boss. Super smart, fierce, accomplished, ambitious, can be played by Maya Rudolph. She grilled Brett Kavanaugh with the fire of 10,000 suns. You go, Joe. Should trump stick with Mother’s husband, Kamala will skewer him. I await the first VP debate with gimlet eyes, glee, and a to-be-made-then vat of popcorn.

I remain the most enthusiastic fan of Elizabeth Warren, Julián Castro, Tammy Duckworth, Val Demings, Adam Schiff, and Eric Swalwell and hope all are considered for cabinet positions when the blue wave comes. Katie Porter should run for Kamala’s Senate seat! Increasingly, my attitude is elect/seat women, burn the bulk of this country’s infrastructure down, and let’s go from there.

In the meantime, SAVE THE GODDAMN US POSTAL SERVICE. Seriously, y’all. This is NOT funny. Knowing he/they can only win by cheating, trump/the GOP are, you guessed, it trying to cheat by defunding the postal service so that people cannot vote by mail. As you can imagine, the ability to vote by mail is, in a pandemic, crucial. Voting also happens to be a goddamn right unless you’ve been disenfranchised for being poor, black, poor and black, brown in many cases, once smoked or sold pot and were thrown in jail for 90 years, and so forth. #SystemicRacism #EndWhiteSupremacy

link to article

Even Susan “Concerned” Collins is, wait for it, concerned!

Let’s all clutch our pearls together in the deep knowing that she will not do one thing about it.

I spoke to our mail carrier today, and he said that DC and VA have already had mail-sorting machines removed from postal stations; this hasn’t happened in our area in Maryland yet, but he said it’s coming.

The above pictures were snapped in Eugene, OR, this week. Oregon, man. Three weeks ago, as part of the Wall of Moms peacefully protesting in Portland, my dear friend Ellen was shot in the foot by the federal goon squad while the moms flanking her were shot in the leg and arm respectively. Ellen is asthmatic and was already in a cast as she’d broken an ankle several weeks prior; she is now in a wheelchair because the goon’s rubber bullet broke her foot through her shoe. Here is her article in Time.

Not it’s not! We are NOT fine. Nothing is.

But this is funny, so I’ll leave you with it and a plea to get busy bringing Blue home.