"What you do makes a difference"

"And you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make."

It is not easy these days to find perspective; perhaps it never is. I am inspired by the words of the late U.S. Supreme Court justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, which comprise this post’s titles. I am comforted by the words LEGO used to explain its Plum Blossom.

“The plum tree flower . . . in a tradition that spans more than a thousand years . . . is often portrayed . . . amidst a classic quartet of beautiful plants known as The Four Gentlemen, or the Four Noble Ones. Together, they represent the virtues and continuous circle of the four seasons: The plum tree (winter), the orchid (spring), the bamboo (summer) and the chrysanthemum (autumn). Sprouting its vibrant, crimson blossoms in the coldest months, the plum tree reminds us of our inner beauty and grace it times of adversity.”

Like so many of you, I can’t unsee the federal forces unleashed on Washington, D.C., and the red carpet being rolled out on U.S. soil for for the dictator who invaded sovereign Ukraine and is wanted by the International Criminal Court for war crimes. Maybe those events will be the last straw for some Americans who have remained on the political sidelines. Or perhaps it will be the reports of how Hater-in-Chief sycophant Laura Loomer is behind the State Department’s announcement that it will stop issuing visas to children from Gaza traveling here for medical care.

There is no lack perspectives on these crazinesses. In particular, I suggest you read James Fallows, Heather Cox Richardson and Joyce Vance, whose discussion of the Overton Window taught me much. If you have a go-to writer whose perspectives you depend on, please share in a comment.

I decided a few days after the November election what kind of difference I hope to make. Words always have been my tool, and so this Substack was born. I also pledged to myself to get involved, and left my comfort zone to join the Community Action Team organized by the Winnebago County (Wisconsin) Democratic Party. Most Monday afternoons find me writing postcards to get out the vote in states around the country. When I am able, I join a local rally or protest. I wear a favorite T-shirt — “We Will Not Be Silenced” — as often as possible.

I applaud whatever you are doing! For ideas, check out “45 Acts of Non-Compliance for Ordinary People.”

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After finishing this post yesterday but before polishing it this morning, I read historian Timothy Snyder’s incredibly important and useful post “Common Sense About Negotiations.” Check it out before you read any more about the Ukraine discussions in Washington today!

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I recently came across a reference in The Bulwark to the independently published book Toxic Shock: Facing the Dangers of the COVID “Vaccines,” which claims that mRNA vaccines “are the real menace to our country’s long-term well-being.” Yowza! Then I read that my mealy-mouthed Republican senator, Ron Johnson, wrote the book’s “Forward.” He’s fond of spreading vaccine misinformation.

I must not have been paying attention in May when he announced that he might not seek re-election in 2028. But I’m not holding my breath; after all, he reneged on a campaign pledge not to seek a third term if reelected in 2016.

I am, however, holding my nose against the stench of his disingenuousness: “I don’t revel in the, ‘You know, I’m a U.S. senator,’” Johnson said in May, adding later that he is “just a guy from Oshkosh, just trying to — literally, trying to save this country.”

It’s all a matter of perspective.

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Speaking of fighting to save the country, Marc Elias — nationally recognized authority in voting rights, redistricting and law — lists Wisconsin among the top states for litigation over voting rights.

It’s all a matter of perspective.

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There was a time when the following scenario would have left me bent out of shape.

The first leg of my journey home from Rhode Island began with a series of delays. I won’t bore you with the details; what is important is that my planned three-hour layover in Charlotte got gobbled up. I exited the plane and discovered I had a 25-minute walk to my connecting gate. My days of hustling through an airport are in the past, but I was confident that even with a bathroom stop I could get there about the time boarding was to begin. I did, and even had time to backtrack to buy a “lunch” box (suffice it to say it was not the leisurely sit-down barbecue meal I had anticipated). Pre-boarding, we were informed that neither of the lavatories on the plane were operational. Oh my! Thankfully nature did not call, the flight was relatively smooth and we were only slightly late landing in Appleton (where it was 88 degrees).

I was worn out on Friday and did little other than shop for basic foodstuffs. Saturday I awoke to discover my coffeemaker had died overnight. Thankfully I had several Starbucks coffee sticks left from my Taiwan trip in January, though my leisurely start to the day was anything but. Determined to enjoy real coffee and a truly leisurely Sunday morning, I headed to my local hardware store committed to buying whatever Keurig it had on the shelf, regardless of price. There was one. It is mine. It is much fancier than the deceased.

And then . . . while I was watching a golf tournament my television went black. Because this had happened several years ago, I knew what it meant. My TV was dead. I saw a trip to Best Buy on my Sunday dance card. But when I woke up on Sunday I was coughing and sneezing and in no mood to shop (something I hate to do in the best of circumstances). As the day went along, I felt worse and worse; all I wanted to do was nap to background noise from the TV. Sigh. At least I had my iPad.

Monday found me worse. Clearly I once again had traveled home with a nasty virus that would have to run its course. I dug out some cold medicine — also leftover from Taiwan — and discovered YouTube offered Hallmark movies, just the mindless entertainment I needed.

I thought I might be up to TV-buying on Tuesday but then realized, as I texted my brother-in-law, I’d “probably not make the best decision.” I mustered enough energy Wednesday to buy a TV (and more cold medicine), but it would not be delivered and installed until Monday. Only time will tell whether it was the best decision.

All of which brings me to this conclusion: I think this tale makes for a good story, but in the scheme of life it is but a blip. Annoyances. Irritations. But — most important — in watching more programming on YouTube over the last few days than I have watched in my life I discovered a treasure-trove of information. Thanks to my pals Sue and Charlie, I watched a fascinating episode of War Stories on “Operation Raspberry: How the Allies Turned German U-Boat Tactics Against Them.” Never in a million years would I have stumbled on that, I dare say. And it was my scrolling for something of interest that brought me to the PBS documentary about Rachel Carson, whose 1962 book Silent Spring book documented the harmful effects of pesticides on wildlife, human health and the environment — and led to a ban on DDT. Every minute of the two-hour American Experience episode was captivating.

It’s all a matter of perspective.

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In his July 25 “America, America” newsletter, Steven Beschloss offered a view from Finland. He discussed the country’s ranking for the last eight years as the happiest country in the world. He shared the single survey question asked of people, and it seems to me worth each of us thinking about:

Please imagine a ladder with steps numbered from 0 at the bottom to 10 at the top. The top of the ladder represents the best possible life for you and the bottom of the ladder represents the worst possible life for you. On which step of the ladder would you say you personally feel you stand at this time?

It’s all a matter of perspective.

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I play two games — both far too much — on my iPad. Sometimes, in order to progress a level, I resort to watching an ad. That is to say, I press the watch button, then wait out the ad. Last week I started to see one from Mattel. With a bright pink background, it proclaims “Barbie/You can be anything.” (This Barbie has always believed that to be true!)

Anything except smart, it seems, however, because the tiny print on the video panels points out that “Dolls do not move on their own.”

Cropped screenshot from ad within game.

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Summer reading programs were a staple of my childhood in West De Pere, Wisconsin. In researching my book My Life With Words, I found a certificate from the public library recording that in the summer before second grade I had completed “the prescribed Summer Reading Course.” That effort was preceded by a Wisconsin Young People’s Reading Circle Primary Certificate. Signed by my beloved first-grade teacher, Hazel Duquaine, it indicated I had read at least 10 books by the end of the school year. They included Day In and Day Out, I Know a Story and Fuzzy Tail.

On Saturday, the summer reading challenge sponsored by the Oshkosh Public Library ended, and on the 22nd the library will host a Million Minute Reader Party. With more than 1.4 million minutes logged, the 1,600+ participants — young and old — more than met the goal of a collective one million minutes of reading between June 6 and August 16.

My contribution: 10,700 minutes over 71 days. The most minutes I read in a day was 285; the least was 40. For me, an app made keeping track of minutes easy. But then, my lifelong habit of record-keeping was memorialized on a workbook my mother kept in a box I found after her death. I included a snapshot of it in Words.

Still visible after almost 75 years, my accounting of grades in this workbook.

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What are the “good old days” you look back upon? Mine, not surprisingly, include earlier eras of journalism, especially muckraking and my own Sixties and Seventies. In search of reminders of when the Washington Post was the Washington Post, I decided to read Katharine Graham’s autobiography. Published in 1997, Personal History is not disappointing me. Currently on page 262, I am not quite halfway through the book; I intend to write about it when I finish. But I want to end with this anecdote, from the McCarthy 1950s. Katharine writes of her mother:

“. . . she was unrelenting in her condemnation of McCarthy and his reckless charges. She despised him vigorously and publicly, calling him variously ‘a perpetual adolescent who has never matured,’ a ‘warped personality who is now revenging himself upon society which he feels has never been fair to him,’ and ‘a gangster type.’”

Sound familiar?

It’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?

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Until next time, remember that “the most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.” [Alice Walker]