Dissenting at any age

As you may recall, I was fed up with politics and last Thursday drove six hours to visit my sister for a long weekend of fun. Whilst searching for music channels to pass the time, I happened upon a special NPR broadcast of the Kavanaugh confirmation hearing!

Yes, I listened to most of it, including Brett’s opening monologue and the Lindsey Graham tantrum, until the Redwoods began to interfere with the satellite, and that made me mad, because I wanted more.

Then I got to Cheryl’s house, and we watched more. I lamented one of my new golf buddies didn’t know who Ruth Bader Ginsburg was, and my sister thought I was too picky about golf buddies, possibly friends in general. Lots of wonderful people don’t care or don’t care to know, and there’s something to be said for focusing on health and happiness.

However, my health and happiness is somewhat contingent on having a voice. I welcome people who disagree with me, but I can’t stand to be squelched. Just to stir things up, I’ll be reprising my RBG costume this year for Halloween, this time with a dissent collar I ordered from Etsy.

Dissent seems to be building up in me, but that might be the boof talking.

Cheryl was kind enough to provide The Great British Baking Show for editorial relief. The hosts come across as kind and supportive – a pleasant alternative to the hearings. I’m a fan now – Paul Hollywood – why, I’d change my name to that! I’m team Prue. Loved her style, especially her glasses, although I liked Mary Berry well enough. As I understand it, Mary is a legend.

Oh, and it’s like a whole different country over there. Oddly named baked items I have never heard of. Jaffa cakes. Bedfordshire Clangers. Biscuits are cookies. Stodgy is bad. There’s even a little sexual repartee. What fun! Did you notice I used the word whilst at the beginning of this post? I might just start speaking with a British accent.

Later, I heard my sister laughing in her bedroom, and I said, “What was so funny?” She had watched the first episode of the new Murphy Brown. I was prepared to hate it but found myself laughing out loud. Of course, the show speaks to my left coast liberal perspective, and even my cloudy view from inside the bubble tells me it would not be entertaining to those elsewhere on the political spectrum.

In all fairness, I didn’t find Corky’s menopausal hot flash jokes to be funny, but that might be bitter leftovers from my own experience, which was simply not amusing. Oh, and Tyne Daly looks fabulous – makes me want to cut my hair and add a streak of pink.

See how easy it is to get distracted?

That’s a good thing, although I’m an unrepentant news junkie. I am a journalism major, after all. At 63, many of the issues that affect women of reproductive age don’t affect me, but I still pay attention because I care in the global sense. We can’t be so myopic we only care about ourselves.

Or can we? Think global, vote self-absorbed? Just wait and see how riled up I get when they go after Social Security.

Although I find myself passionately interested in current events, for the most part, I have been largely uninterested in writing about them. At least for now. That’s the good news. The bad news is, what’s left? Bladder control?

I wondered if I could change – settle down and go gentle into that good night. But I’ve discovered now that I’m retired, I have more time to stay abreast of issues, and I rather like being well-informed. I want to stay engaged in the important topics of the day, and I may write about them from time to time.

Or I may not. The freedom to decide what I say and what I write about is a huge perk of age and retirement. I used to worry about representing my employer, and now I represent only me.

First rule of order is to keep my head from exploding. We’ll see what happens after that.