June arrived bringing pops of yellow and pink and purple and loads of green to shift our view away from the black and gray of all our yesterdays. June brings plenty to celebrate, in all its gaiety. And most wonderfully, no one can take away the natural joy one feels during this spirited month, regardless of what they plan to cancel. This June grab on to the waves of color rippling every which way and join in the festivities.
As the school year rolls into a June stop, I always like to press pause and ask my Seniors to reflect on their first 18 years, and consider imparting some advice on their peers. To that end one of their final assignments is to write a Valedictorian Speech, regardless if they will give one at Graduation or not. I write a Commencement Speaker Speech, regardless that I will not give it at Graduation. Seems like a task worthwhile for all of us to do these last days, don’t you think? The other day, during Period 3 we each stood at the podium on the auditorium stage, and addressed each other with all the pomp we could muster. I can assure you, they move me to laughter and tears every year, and I am always in wonder over their wisdom and optimism. This time too.
Tonight, I will share my speech with you.
This afternoon, as I tried to corner my mind into one concise post, “State Representatives Justin Jones, Justin J. Pearson and Gloria Johnson — were facing expulsion from the [Tennessee] House, a dramatic act of political retribution” (New York Times). Jones, along with marchers driven to extremity in the face of obstinate denial, demanded law-makers reduce their gun-lobby-controlled agenda and do something, anything actually, other than offer up innocent citizens to the greed and profits of the weapons’ manufacturers. But, in all seriousness I really don’t want to write about guns in a country that is actually still debating the most basic gun control measures of any civilized country on the planet, like there are two sides to this? I also don’t want to write about the business man faced with 34 charges, all of which point to his sleazy dealings with women or country, anyone really, who stands in his power-mongering way. I did listen to Jonah Bromwich, a criminal justice correspondent for The Times, tell what it was like inside the courthouse as Mr. Trump was first brought in, and then charged, on The Daily podcast. The swagger, the bravado, and all the hype generally seen when this guy hits the pulpit minimized to two words, “Not Guilty.” The only words he uttered in court. Although he was warned by the judge to not rile people up with his harmful rhetoric, “to refrain from comments that incite violence or create civil unrest,” he was barely in the door at his Palm Beach playground when he did all of that. Ugh! This crazy crazy world has us all in knots and nightmares, in disputes over insanity and sanity, with a path that twists like Lombard Street. I’m done expounding words of obvious truth to airy illusion.
Nine Cent Girl 