I woke up this morning with that song in my head, American Pie, (bye bye miss american pie...), the line I had stuck in my head was, The Day The Music Died. You know that song? Can you hear it in your head? I kept hearing it and then I played it and I cried in the kitchen while I was making oatmeal and bagels and lunches for both of my boys. I cried into the pink napkin, covering my face. I'm crying right now, in the cafe in Hillsdale. Tears welling up, escaping, even though I am trying my best to suck them all back, to suck them in. I told the boys that today is the day the music died, which is a shitty thing to say to my kids, I know. I know, for fuck's sake, I fucking know, but this is how I am feeling and for any of you who know me, you know that it's not my thing to keep my thoughts and feeling inside. It's almost an impossibility. Even if I say nothing at all, all of my thoughts and all of my feelings are written on my face. You would have to be completely checked out to not see.
OMG. I have so much anger inside of me. I hate everyone, but I am trying to let the love flow. I am trying, but fuck all of you. Well, not all of you. You know I don't mean you. I have become intolerant. It has evolved from lactose intolerance to human intolerance. I am trying to listen to John Lewis - he said to LOVE. And I am trying.
We took the boys to school this morning so that we could participate in the MLK Assembly, which is always a great event at our school. Full of love, compassion, understanding, singing, clapping, sharing, LOVE LOVE LOVE. Today was a very mellow assembly - the snow threw everything off. It was great to be there, leaning on Aaron. Inge came over to give us both hugs, I'm sure she read the writing on my sad, sad face. I looked around and saw so many of the adults crying. At the end of the assembly, we sang that old song, This Land is Your Land, by Woody Guthrie. And this shifted something in me. Our school is so clever, this was the perfect song! We were standing, Mayim was standing in front me, I wrapped my arms around him, we all sang that song together and something happened inside of me as I cried and sang. I'm not sure yet if it is hope, hope seems too big right now. That sweet, old song is really so political and I felt like it was a big fuck you to the new, ugly establishment. I love this fuck you. I really do. Again, those of you who know me, know how much I love the fuck you.
I've been hearing all around me, "You going to the march?". Everyone is talking about it and we are going. I am almost finished knitting my pink pussy hat, just knitting my pussy hat makes me feel like I am doing something, it's symbolic, and the doing will get bigger and louder.