It's becoming cliche to say you're going to leave the U.S. for good if the bush DADministration ends up back in the proverbial saddle in November. Unless you're me. I don't think much about moving--I can be content so easily by the small things around me and appreciating all that I DO have without giving a second thought to what's "out there." Hey, didn't need to use the duct tape and plastic sheeting today, Jenna doesn't have strep, and the dogs have water in their bucket = life is good.
But even I'm wondering, how can we stand it much longer? We Americans who let this administration--by not unseating it when it took power illegally--destroy large pieces of the world. What do we do this fall if they remain? Do we sit here? Wait for the nerve gas--scream out, hey it's not us! it's not us the people! we think they're insane too! too late--they said those things and they're dead. Hey bub, put a fork in him, he's done.
It's not that I love or don't love this country. It's not a matter of "loving country," a concept I never quite understood, like I missed that day in school. I don't "love" large abstract concepts and power structures and man-made systems; I love the sharp edges of dried red clay, and the cold wetness of grass under my feet, the soggy newspaper I never picked up, the wood pile we keep stacking up to keep Bando from digging out, and the rooms in my house with well-worn flat paint layed on with much elbow grease by me and George ten years ago.
But soil and grass and rooms with walls that need painting--those aren't "my country." The world is "my country." This is the place I live. And the place I live is hurting the world and destroying the places other people live. And I can't get my head around it, and I can't stand it anymore.