Swim Lessons

I get it now. I don’t know how I missed it before. I didn’t completely, of course. I haven’t been in a coma exactly, just a head-in-the-sand kind of hopefulness that wasn’t as realistic as it should have been. Not that I’m gonna “should” on myself. It’s hard to put a puzzle together with half the pieces missing.

All these years. I missed it. Even though I’ve been an upstream swimmer all my life. Growing up in a conservative church environment will do that to you. Having a father who worked in the Haight-Ashbury District of San Francisco in the 60’s as a narcotics agent dulled the glamor of the drug culture. Then there’s the fact that I was born with a conscience more sensitive than a seismograph on the San Andreas Fault. I once turned myself in to my mother for getting in trouble at a friend’s house. “Go get the paddle,” my eight-year-old self announced. She did. Somehow, I felt better in spite of the spanking.

I don’t break rules. Until I hit menopause, you could count the number of swear words I’d uttered on one hand. Okay, maybe both hands. That was seven years ago and I no longer blame menopause for my potty mouth. I blame no one. I just call it my latent rebellion.

I have never smoked a cigarette. Not once. Reference the “drugs are no fun” declaration above. I didn’t taste my first beer until 2010. I was 52 years old. It was nice – all two sips of it. Then I gave it to Rob and drove us both home cuz he’d already finished off his own when I donated my glass. I’ve never stolen anything, not even a pack of gum. I crossed my legs for four years in high school so I wouldn’t have to breathe in the marijuana smoke in the girls’ bathroom. I didn’t go to dances because I wasn’t allowed to. As a result, I still can’t dance, which is really a shame.

I have been called ‘pure as the driven snow’—a favorite of the not-my-people crowd—which isn’t as vitriolic as they thought, although it still managed to hurt my feelings. After all, the reason non rule-breakers avoid breaking rules is because they want to be liked. And stay out of trouble. It’s hard to be accepted by troublemakers when you disagree with their platform.

So, I grew up as an oddball. I was not a cool kid, in case you haven’t picked up on that. The most rebellious thing I ever did was get my ears pierced on my 18^th birthday because that’s the age when my father figured I was old enough to add extra holes to my head. I’m still glad I did it. Two years ago, for my 60^th birthday, I got my first tattoo. The next year, I got another one. I think I’m done now. No matter what anybody tells you, tattoos really hurt. That’s about it for my rebellions. I cuss when I’m mad, have had pierced ears since I was eighteen, and own two tattoos, both of which I’m proud of.

Please don’t misunderstand. I was saved from a lot of pain by marching to the beat of a different drummer. For example, I’m not chemically addicted to anything except chocolate. I’ve only ever been intimate with my husband of 44 years. I don’t have a rap sheet. I can’t even rap. I have scars, both inside and out like everyone does, but they’re survivor scars. They’re not self-inflicted.

Swimming upstream all my life may have been the best preparation for what I’m facing now.

And what is that? It’s the same thing you’re facing. That we’re all facing. An attempted overthrow of our 244-year-old republic by our own citizens. The horrifying possibility of the downfall of freedom. To be sure, we have enemies outside of America, but they have wedged their big fat toes in the door of traitors who have sold us out for cash on the barrelhead. Promised favors. Wealth and power. You know, the normal bribes weak-charactered people can always be bought out for. But what really hurts is that we didn’t see it coming. Or, maybe I need to own this since I can’t speak for you, I didn’t see it coming. I heard rumors in the wind, listened to warnings from political watchdog groups, and tried not to panic. I may be used to going against counterculture, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare me.

We once owned a red-headed beagle blend of a dog who thought she was safe if she stuck her head under the dust ruffle of our bed. Or cozied up against the two-inch ledge beneath the oven in the kitchen. Her logic seemed to be if she couldn’t see us, we couldn’t see her. We laughed at her stupidity as much as at the bulk of her exposed body while she thought she was hiding, but the joke was on us.

Maybe she was just imitating her owners.

There’s plenty to be scared about now. Socialism masquerading as democracy, which is a pretty lousy disguise if you ask me, has declared itself in control of our country. Illegally. Right now, their tentacles are so far-reaching you’d be hard pressed to find a mayor or council member, secretary of state or governor who has not deserted their sacred oaths and crossed over to the dark side. The proof of their attempted coup is everywhere. Dishonesty recorded and played back to the socialist players means nothing to them. They lie to our faces and are proud of it. Overflowing evidence of a stolen election can only be discounted from that hole in the ground where sleepy ostriches hide their brains. Now the impetus is on our courts, many of them pre-packaged with corrupt judges, to sort out the good from the bad. They are woefully unqualified, being themselves as crooked as sin.

Right is called wrong (vote for Trump? We will find you and make sure you disappear from polite society.) Since when is the privilege of voting a punishable offense? City-destroying violence is called ‘peaceful’ by the mobster politicians who now govern blocks of ashes—convince the families of dead policeman and children to accept that description while the smoke from Antifa riots hovers above their graves. Medical “authorities” have sold their souls to the devil, convincing a terrified populace that a virus with a 99.9 per cent survival rate permeates the air they breathe, even in their own homes, and the only way to protect themselves is to isolate. Forever. Faceless, fearful people in grocery stores are a constant reminder that all is not well with the world.

I’m not telling you anything new. This is barely scratching the surface of the fallout of 2020.

But why do public servants surrender to evil? Is it for money and power? And why does half our population think they’ll have any freedom left if they submit to the government putting them out of business, purposely impoverishing them until they’re completely dependent on it for their very survival?

Why are so many people blinded by what’s really going on? Is it because they’ve stood for nothing and will fall for anything? Are their muscles atrophied because they never swam against the easy flow of compliance? Do they seriously believe that the progressive socialist platform of the thieving left will still be their savior once they’re in control? It’s a lie—an unraveled rope clung to by those who have never learned the repetitive nature of history and may be doomed to repeat it.

I don’t know if it’s too late. I know good always conquers evil, eventually. Even the decrepit movie industry portrays that in the plot of every film they’ve cranked out for the last hundred years. I know that turning us against each other in the arena of opinions and politics is deadly. Haven’t you been reminded that united we’ll stand and divided we’ll fall? There must be some common ground somewhere that we can agree on, a safe place where we can all link arms and stand against lies and corruption and the threat of a holocaust more horrible than even World War II represented.

If we are listening. If we are watching. If we pay attention to the rumbling earth around us and shake the sand from off our heads. There’s so little time left to recognize the signs of an approaching earthquake. The trap has been laid for the future of our children and grandchildren—a stolen heritage that we could have prevented if we’d put aside our pride and taken a hard look at the truth.

Everything that has happened this year—one enormous tsunami of bad news and lockdowns and riots and politics—has been in the works for decades. That’s what I missed. Maybe it’s what you missed, too. The slow, purposeful erosion of our morals and our liberties have converged and now the dam is about to break.

For the love of God and everyone else who matters to you, I’m begging you to connect the dots and turn around. Start swimming against the flow before it’s too late. It’s going to take all of us together, speaking up, standing for freedom, demanding the truth, and refusing to settle for anything less.

It’s the only way. There’s no more time to hide. This is the time for righteous rebellion. Civil disobedience. Swimming upstream. Taking off the floaties.

And it’s gonna hurt. Evil doesn’t give in easily, but we don’t either. I’m taking my own advice to heart, pulling my head out of the sand, practicing my breaststroke. I’m scared, but I’m not willing to give up without a fight.

This could ruin my snow white record, though. I may wind up rapping after all.

With thanks to Prezmek P for the use of the photo above. The original may be viewed by following this link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/globalquiz/27757743303/in/photolist-JhRG26-6D6U1W-c5eg7o-6D6XQb-b7jVq-b7kmb-b7jRe-3d7GJb-b7khJ-b7jkT-b7jp8-jbQ7d-EYnGh-2vEm3b-BpoP-7wGUsp-7CJAWG-e6EKzT-nNHAD-4mW7sJ-6D6TSE-Bprt-aRQmVX-8gcH6n-5T2SMo-d6TaX-fhMb71-7wLGkU-s5jkGe-9713CV-6ctBUQ-gTXdq-561Xjm-6sChh7-pswDrU-jbQ7e-BppN-W3SJf-6sCh2A-7PP5VC-56F26o-56F1Ph-56F1LC-6sCfBb-Bpuu-56ARhB-Bptt-BpHN-Bpvm-Bpjy/