I pledge allegiance

In the telling and retelling of catastrophe we embody truth

I pledge allegiance to a flag.

Tattered and torn. Battle worn.

Oh say - can you see it?

I recited the pledge twice today - in a roomful of mostly white or grey-headed adults. We were there for the kids who stood at the front of the room. The six-graders designed and delivered a presentation - Town Meeting Day comes but once a year in Vermont. They showcased their school, sported their team jackets. They passed around the mic, fielded questions with grace, and stumbled on a couple of moments that made the entire room smile.

(But I can’t stop crying. I want to say why but I won’t. I’m just not ready. I’m as raw as I get - carved out by cruelty from the highest hands for the most base purpose: Control. Here, in the land of the free. I’m not ready to say any more.)

One Nation

Indivisible

Five days a week. Year after year.

Scrutching my chair behind me - I stood. Surrounded by my classmates, my plaid skirt hid my shorts. Peter Pan collars and a Pixie haircut, I stood.

My earnest voice joined the one crackling on the loud speaker, I stood.

I loved that feeling of unity then, same as today. Town Meeting Day.

(Both times my voice faltered on those last words. They turned into a question: for all? A knife turned sharply.)

Today, I am grateful for the homing pigeon in me that led my nineteen year old self to Vermont. Just a few weeks, I said at the time. But it was love at first sight: misty mountains, cloaked in white. A potholed road, rugged and steep, I stood on that icy pull off, beholding my new home. It took me years to appreciate Vermont’s annual commitment to democracy on the first Tuesday in March. I went through a period - years in fact - where I was embarrassed by the riches of this country. Felt shy with privilege and cringed when I heard, “Most powerful.”

Those days are gone, and for the first time in my life, I truly understand the word FIGHT. It’s true. Some things we must fight for. Fight to protect. Fight with a fury that rises from the core. I know not its source other than my humanness.

(At least now I know in my gut when my humanness is being messed with - and often when yours is too.)

I pledge allegiance to the dusty road. To the mist covered mountains. The blood soaked cloth.

I pledge allegiance to the legacy of survivors - whose words enrich this nation. In the telling and retelling of catastrophe we embody the sacred and re-member who we are and who we are becoming. Through story and art we stand.

Knowing in our bones

The one thing worth fighting for:

Liberty and Justice. For all.

Liberty. Justice. For all.

For all.

How are you telling and retelling your story? It matters more today than ever before. You will find inspiration and camaraderie at the Reclaiming Autonomy Writing Symposium. March 21st 1-4 pm EST. On Zoom. Yes, it will be recorded and all participants will receive the recording. And YES, there are scholarships available if you need help.

REGISTER TODAY. TOMORROW IS THE LAST DAY FOR THE EARLY BIRD DISCOUNT! $39 ($49 STARTING MARCH 6TH)