The Cheap Seats

I love American history. As a child I couldn't get enough of it, specifically mass movements that were ultimately about American Progress —stories of men and women who fearlessly advanced noble causes that inspired and empowered their fellow citizens for generations to come. You know who they are, the ones we've named schools and streets after. I don't mean to be glib; I'm just deeply discouraged. It comes with adulthood I suppose, along with the realization that American Progress has never been a steady march forward—that for every legal and moral stride this nation has taken, some noxious legislative obstruction and petty grievance has stood in the way, the overarching goal (crafted by some frightened, shrinking base of power) being to maintain a status quo that is deeply rooted in racial inequality, be it in housing, employment, education, criminal justice or treatment in police custody. You know, those pursuit of happiness things that the armed (and un-arrested) Mi

     A global pandemic gives an introvert more time to think than is good for him. Thoughts, ideas, and grand plans zip in and out of my mind long before my cat ever receives her first feeding. Soon after, coffee soothes whatever "pressing" tasks were on my mental to-do list and I settle on an insignificant few each new day.       We're sort of wired for these times. Introverts, I mean. Observers by nature, we have always mentally exhaled after long days at work or at play. Don't get us wrong, we love humanity, but in order to do it all over again tomorrow, we need to re-charge in the company of only a few, or none. Trust me, the introvert in you (or in your life) is nodding.      The one consistent thought that hasn't left me however, is, "I am one of the lucky ones." I suppose that's why I've kept my head down since the lockdown began. Keep your mouth shut, I remind myself from the comfort of home.  No one wants to hear your thoughts on