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Politics Friday

For Czeslawa: Introducing Politics Friday

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Ever since Trump was elected, I have been floundering with this blog as I debate whether or not I should write about politics. I did not conceive of Notes from the Hinterland as a blog to be centered on politics. Instead, I wanted it to be focused on rural life as well as what I listened to, read, and watched. I was afraid that writing about politics after so many years of blogging—over ten  years, I think—would be jarring. From reading the comments, I know that many of you follow Notes from the Hinterland for its calming effects as I record the changing of the seasons and the goings-on in central Maine. Because of this, when I returned to blogging after an extended break, I decided it would be business as usual with my blog.

Except it’s not business as usual in this country. Far from it. Even readers who don’t live in the United States understand the chaos and down-right cruelty of the Trump administration. Good friends of the United States, such as Canada, have been insulted and threatened with tariffs. In Maine, this hits particularly hard as the state has a 611-mile border with Canada. Many Mainers are of Canadian descent. Indeed, all of my immediate ancestors, going back five generations, come from Canada—Québec on my mother’s side, Prince Edward Island on my father’s. In northern Maine, there are families that span both sides of the border.

In the face of all this chaos, I have been going back and forth. Should I write about politics and thus change the vibe of this blog? Or stick with what I have been doing?

But then yesterday, in Timothy Snyder’s Substack—Thinking About…—I read an essay by Laurie Winer. In “What to Expect When You’re Expecting Catastrophe”, she writes:

The debate about whether or not we should bring Hitler or Nazism or fascism into a contemporary political debate is obsolete. Now it is crucial that we take seriously the warnings gathered for us by survivors and writers. When you look at a photo of a Jew about to be arrested or shot and he or she is staring straight into the camera, remember that it is you they are looking at.

That paragraph certainly caught my attention. Coincidentally, I just took out a book, The Rest is Memory, from the library. This novel, by Lily Tuck, imagines the life of a real Polish girl named Czeslawa Kwoka who in 1942 was transported to Auschwitz and photographed. Fourteen years old on arrival, she was dead three months later.

Here is Czeslawa’s picture featured on the book’s jacket.

Polish photographer Wilhelm Brasse, who was also a prisoner at Auschwitz, took this photo.

Yes, it does seem as though she is looking at me. The fact that Czeslawa was Catholic rather than Jewish matters not at all. She was killed in a murderous rampage that stretched across Europe and took millions of lives of people deemed inferior—Jews, Catholics, Romas, gays, the elderly, and handicapped folks.

Winer’s words coupled with Czeslawa’s picture tipped the scales. Even though I am the tiniest of fish in a vast ocean, I can read, and I can write. In these times, not to write seems wrong somehow. so write I will—on my blog, on Facebook, to politicians.

Going forward, my blog will have two posts each week. On Mondays, I’ll write about the seasons and the Maine hinterland. On Fridays, it will be politics. Those who prefer not to read about politics can skip Friday’s post.

This decision feels right. Politics Friday is dedicated to Czeslawa, who never had a chance to grow up, whose sad, wan face stares out at us—at me—from across the years. A message and a warning.

To Czeslawa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home, Nature

Going, Going But Not Quite Gone

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In Maine, what a difference a week can make. The snow is nearly gone from the backyard, and we can see the garden and some of the patio. The area by the clothesline is free, and I long to start washing blankets so that I can hang them outside.

The backyard
The backyard

 

“Not quite yet,” Clif has advised. “The ground is still too soft, and the weight of the blankets will pull the line over.”

He is right, of course, and I’ll hold off washing the blankets for another few weeks. But now and then, I look longingly out the window at the line.

The waiting clothesline
The waiting clothesline

 

Yesterday, in an extreme case of Pushing the Season, Clif and I went outside and mucked around for a bit. I mean this literally. Our shoes left footprints in the mud, and where it was shady—this includes the whole front yard—we left footprints in snow that is as soft as a coconut slushy.

The front yard
The front yard

 

I had originally gone out to pick up sticks in the backyard. When you live in the woods, there are always a fair number that fall during the winter. I gather them and put them in a large garbage can, and we use them in the firepit in the summer.

The ground was really too soft for this chore, but Clif soon found another that was more appropriate. That is, removing usable wood that had been trimmed by the power company and left in an untidy clump in our front yard. While he was at it, he brought out the ladder and sawed some branches that were hanging too low. We saved what we could use, and the rest I hauled into the woods, where I made a little brush pile for the creatures who live there.

All in all, we spent a good couple of hours at our task, and when we were done, the front yard looked much better.  We came in with wet feet and a sense of accomplishment. I popped some popcorn and we settled in the living room to read and to eat our snack. The dog, who had been supervising outside, jumped on the couch so that he, too, could have some buttered popcorn. All was snug and cozy.

I’m going to conclude with a wood metaphor. Going out on a limb, I’m predicting that winter is over, and we are on the cusp of mud season, early spring in Maine. The days are ever so much longer, and yesterday I heard our resident cardinal singing his spring song.

Naturally, this winter I did not accomplish anywhere near as much as I wanted with my inside chores—the perpetual cleaning and decluttering.  Never mind! On bad days I will work on those projects. Right now, I am itching to be outside, even if it’s only to muck about in the yard.

Of course, Mother Nature might give us one her little surprise March snowstorms, which will cover all the bare ground and make everything even wetter and soggier. But the snow won’t last long.

Spring is edging her way in, and how welcome she is.

Snow dog
Snow dog
Community, People

Winthrop Gets a Peace Pole

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Yesterday was an exciting day for the town of Winthrop, which got its very own Peace Pole and memorial bench dedicated to Tom Sturtevant, a long-time Winthrop resident who died in January of 2012. Tom was many things, including a friend, a teacher, a peace activist, a husband, and a father. Here is what I wrote about Tom not long after he died: “There are many ways to promote peace, and Tom’s involvement with various peace groups was one way, but helping to make the community—in this case, Winthrop—a better place is another way of promoting peace, which starts at home. Tom volunteered at the Winthrop Food Pantry and with Meals on Wheels. He helped establish the Winthrop Community Gardens and was involved with the Inch-by-Inch Garden project for the Winthrop Grade School.” Tom was also involved with the library expansion.

Tom was tall, lanky, soft-spoken, brave, and resolute. I still remember how at the November 2011 board meeting at the Winthrop Food Pantry, two people rode their bikes on that brisk day: Me and Tom, who was in his 80s. I sure miss seeing that man biking or walking around town. I miss hearing that soft-spoken voice.

To honor this man who gave so much of himself to peace and to the community, the Winthrop Area People for Peace got permission from the Winthrop Town Council to put a Peace Pole and a bench in the Inch-by-Inch Garden at the grade school. (Here is a description of what a Peace Pole is.) All the money for this project came from private donations, and the granite for the pole and the bench came from Tom’s house in Winthrop. How appropriate!

All summer was spent planning, organizing, and raising money for the Peace Pole and bench, and yesterday the big day for the installation finally arrived. John Jennings, owner of Forgotten Stoneworks, and his assistant David Krantz came with their equipment to install the Peace Pole and the bench. Margy and Steve Knight and Clif and I were there to supervise and be enthusiastic cheerleaders. To say we were thrilled by the Peace Pole and bench is a vast understatement. Ecstatic might be a better word. Did we jump up and down a little? Probably not. But I know I felt like doing so.

All went smoothly, and within an hour so, the pole, which according to Steve, weighs about 1,300 pounds, and the bench were in place in the Inch-by-Inch Garden. The phrases inscribed on the sides are: “May Peace Prevail on Earth”; “Be the Change You Wish to See”; “Let Peace Begin with Me”; and “Inch by Inch…Gonna Make this Garden Grow.”

On Sunday, November 3 at 1:00 p.m., there will be a Peace Pole Celebration at the Inch-by-Inch Garden by the Winthrop Grade School. A reception will immediately follow in the Winthrop Town Hall. Everyone who knew Tom (or who would have liked to have known Tom) is invited to come. We are anticipating a big crowd. Tom, you are still missed, and you are certainly not forgotten.

 

 

Peace Pole Slide Show:

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