Ordinarily I would have posted on Monday, but there was not much ordinary about that day, coming as it did after Sunday, when I feared for local people in a crowd. Fortunately, for my sanity late day Monday I met friends for dinner and then we went to a wonderful bookstore to hear two fine poets read their work. By the time I got home that evening I was up to my ears in alternating worry and delight and had no idea what I might post that would be of use to anyone. I was tripping over conflicting moods. Then on Tuesday, I feared for people who disagree over political issues, and two days of worry had drained me, although escaping into a book about the love life of chimpanzees seemed cowardly.
We need these days to be cautious, behave well online, and at times filter the news. But no writer whom I know, and respect, sits in the proverbial ivory tower unaware of what happens on the ground. Ignoring reality, I’m almost sure, would lead to disaster when an angry mob has decided that ivory towers cause famine and disease or they’re not legal, and said writer would find her/himself, pen in hand stumbling through the rubble of a place once called safe.