All posts by witchyrichy@gmail.com

Good God, Y’All

I am struggling to put words together these days. But, I feel compelled to connect so for today, I am sharing a song and a poem.

SiriusXM served up Edwin Starr’s song, “War,” recorded in 1969 at the height of the Vietnam War.

You can find the lyrics here.

Today’s Poem of the Day from the Academy of American Poets is “War” by Gary Copeland Lilley. The poem is dedicated to Lilley’s friend who fought in the Army Special Forces and muses on the impact of war on the combatants.

“the man’s been in combat he’s seen what can I tell you he knows the need for a transcendent blues relief honed by the Blues-People the Indian my brother-man now got indigenous blues my brother-man genocide survivor joined the army airborne paratrooper delta force fought wars most Americans never know are happening in anywhere-South America”

You Will Know Them By Their Fruits

183/365 for 2010 (July 2, 2010)
Pear hanging on a tree

This week, the government rolled back federal bans on segregated facilities and removed disability guidelines for US businesses. Does this mean we will return to the days of “whites only” signs or see stores refuse to add ramps? Who knows?

Here’s what I do know: with those restrictions and requirements removed, we will be able to see even further into the hearts and minds of our fellow citizens. The process began with the election when we wondered how people who seemed so nice, so-called “good” Christians, could vote for hate and cruelty.

And then I remembered what Jesus said in Matthew 7:16 “You will know them by their fruits.”

A Time for Poetry

Egret On Nice
Egret on Ice, Pea Island, North Carolina, January 2025, Photo by The Richardsons

After my last rant, I took a break and dove into the #100DayProject. Supported by Lindsay Jean Thomson, the goal of the project, which began on February 23 this year, is to choose a project and work on it for 100 days. While Thomson’s focus is about art, I don’t think it has to be. The main purpose is making the commitment to creating something everyday.

My project this year comes out of twin desires: to become more skilled at gel plate printing and to read more poetry. I am tracking my progress on Substack, as that is where the main project community is housed. I am also posting pictures to Flickr.

I was considering using Emily Dickinson’s poem, “Hope” is the thing with feathers next. The Poetry Foundation included the poem in a collection of poems of hope and resilience, created in 2017. I found Claudia Rankine’s poem, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely: “Cornel West makes the point…”, a powerful meditation on life as a black person during George W. Bush’s election. She references Dickinson:

“I forget things too. It makes me sad. Or it makes me the saddest. The sadness is not really about George W. or our American optimism; the sadness lives in the recog­nition that a life can not matter. Or, as there are billions of lives, my sadness is alive alongside the recognition that billions of lives never mattered. I write this with­out breaking my heart, without bursting into anything. Perhaps this is the real source of my sadness. Or, per­haps, Emily Dickinson, my love, hope was never a thing with feathers. I don’t know, I just find when the news comes on I switch the channel. This new ten­dency might be indicative of a deepening personality flaw: IMH, The Inability to Maintain Hope, which trans­lates into no innate trust in the supreme laws that gov­ern us. Cornel West says this is what is wrong with black people today—too nihilistic. Too scarred by hope to hope, too experienced to experience, too close to dead is what I think.”

Claudia Rankine, “Cornel West makes the point… (pp. 21-23)” from Don’t Let Me Be Lonely. Copyright © 2004 by Claudia Rankine.  

Tone Deaf Privilege

Crimson and Clover

Fifteen years ago, my husband and I left the once-sleepy college town turned retirement mecca and moved south across the river (think wrong side of the tracks). We bought a farm, grew some food, raised pigs and chickens. While we have mostly left farming behind, we continue to live in our old farmhouse on the edge of a tiny town. In those 15 years, we have learned a lot about what it means to be underprivileged and underserved in America.

It was with that perspective that I read a thread from an urbanite this morning who listed all the companies he and his family would be boycotting from Amazon to Walmart. He also helpfully shared the businesses, both online and offline, that his family would be supporting. If you were wealthy and lived in a city with a car or good public transportation, it sounded quite doable. He admitted it took more time and planning but was willing to make the sacrifice to lodge his protest.

When one of his followers did suggest that those in “rural-esque” areas (fyi: we call it the country) might find this more of a struggle, the writers and his followers immediately went to the buying online argument, noting that you might incur shipping costs. But, again, all in sacrifice to this greater good they were pursuing.

I had to put the phone down and walk away as I make it a general rule not to engage on social media and, by this point, was just shaking my head at how little these people understood of the world beyond their bubble of privilege. My favorite part was the discussion of toilet paper. Of course, they all use bamboo toilet paper that, according to the writer, is generally the same price as the regular stuff. Seriously? Maybe in the city. The brand he referenced runs about $2/roll. In my “rural-esque” community, toilet paper is widely available at less than $1/roll. It may not be as soft or smooth on your bum, but it gets the job done.

One replier talked about missing the lovely vegetables at his upscale market. Unless you grow them and slaughter them yourself, fresh vegetables and meat are not available in my town. There was a grocery store in the town when we moved there: it smelled bad, and I learned that “manager’s special” meant items were often long out of date. It closed a decade ago so now the nearest full-service grocery store is almost ten miles away. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot for suburban commuters, but many people in my town do not have cars. There is no public transportation. They are limited to what can be purchased from one of the three discount stores. While those stores increased their inventory of food when the grocery has closed, they do not have fresh food, and the packaged food is low-end and over-processed. Even now, the milk delivery truck doesn’t always make it in time to replace the outdated milk. I laughed out loud at the writer when he described how they were now buying directly from a butcher and a baker, “just like the old days.” Again, seriously? My town probably had those things in the old days, but when the lumber mill closed, most businesses went right along with it.

I hesitate to jump into the conversation about why Democrats lost, but this thread gives a glimpse into one possibility. Poor “rural-esque” people (I just can’t quite get over that description) are struggling and were largely invisible in the previous election. As far as I know, neither of my senators, both good Democrats, has ever visited our town. At the fall festival, the local Democrats couldn’t even put together a booth.

Since Democrats seem to be starting from scratch, here’s a humble suggestion: come to my town and every other town like mine. There are plenty of them: if you drive Route 460 in Virginia to get to the beach, you pass through them. You may have gotten a speeding ticket because you decided you didn’t need to slow down to 35 when you passed through my town. Sorry, not sorry. Your law breaking (yes, friends, speeding IS breaking the law) helps fund our police force that does a lot of good community work.

I am sending out an open invitation to anyone who is interested to come to my town. We are happy to have you stay with us since the closest hotel is 30 minutes away on the interstate. On second thought, if you do stay at the hotel, your drive to my town will allow you to experience rural America: there are still crops and fields and animals, but more and more of the land is being taken over for industrial solar. I support solar as I know most liberals do, but I wonder how happy those in surbuban-esque areas would be if the fields outside their town suddenly sprouted solar panels. I can’t say for sure, but I suspect they would come down with a whole lot of NIMBY.

I know a few people who read my writing, and my intention is not to offend but rather help you see past your privilege. It took me some time, too. I remember how shocked I was to discover the closest dry cleaner was in my old town, a ferry ride away. What did these people do? Well, clothing at the dollar store is never dry clean only. And, to be completely transparent, my privilege is one of the reasons I can live here. I can afford to have food and essential supplies delivered to my house. I have a car to get to the “urban-esque” areas when I need to. We provide rides when we can and help our neighbors order online as their Internet access is often limited to cell phones with strict data plans.

Phew! I think I have had this rant in me for awhile. I know you may be wondering who, if anyone, these people voted for. It doesn’t matter. They have been left behind by everyone, Democrats, Independents, Greens, and Republicans alike. They are mostly invisible to the rest of the country. Perhaps I can help bring them into the light.

Meanwhile, go on with the boycotts and the protests. Wealthy white people tend to get attention and if your dollars start to make a difference in the pocketbooks of these companies, it could help. And, also spend some time learning about the struggle of rural communities. This article from The Chronicle of Philanthropy is a good starting point. You can learn more about poor people in the United State at the Poor People’s Campaign.