Wednesday Will Tell the Tale
It happened on a Tuesday.
Two Hundred and Forty-two years. That’s a good stretch of luck. We’d rolled the dice several times with mediocre and crazy, but all rose to crisis despite their shortcomings. We’d called it manifest destiny, but sheer luck is what it was. Ask any gambler or tumbleweed- rolls eventually stop.
It happened on a Tuesday.
I’d watched the legislation move through the process, had joined in the social media barrage of for and against, shared the meme photos and burned with righteous hashtag when it passed.
The talking heads were in rare form that morning, alternative facts and speculations giving background noise to a day off from work . Socks and towels were being paired and folded as the second cup of coffee started to work its magic. It was bright, expectant, fecund and ready like the best spring days are, the light calling me outside to do lazy errands in its embrace. I’d just flipped off the screen and headed toward a quick brisk shower when I heard footfalls on the deck and the doorbell turned me back into the living room.
It happened on a Tuesday.
Opening the door revealed three fresh, young faces, one of them I recognized immediately. It was the guy I bought my insurance through, the State Farm man, who I’d served with on volunteer boards, whose kid played little league with mine. Great guy, pillar of the community, deacon at my church, who also served in the National Guard as a Captain. I’d only seen him in that uniform once before, at a city council meeting following his return from deployment, when our community honored our local soldiers.
He smiled and apologized for the intrusion. Explained that he and the two soldiers were tasked to do the housing check at this address as required by the new citizenship law- that it would only take a moment, no big deal.
It happened on a Tuesday.
There are moments that hand us the opportunity to stand up to our rhetoric. Moments that force a commitment, moments of trepidation pregnant with choice. On one hand, what did it matter? They’d be out in five minutes, there was nothing to see here, post some flaming comment with an angry face emoji to show my disgust and head out to get stamps and beer. On the other hand, lies the thought that it does really matter, that principled citizens needed to resist wrong, regardless of personal cost. It was time to weigh and choose.
What is Wednesday going to be?
