Harness On Our Back

I gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish the estate o’ the world were now undone.
Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we’ll die with harness on our back.

MacBeth, by William Shakespeare (Act V, scene 5)

We went down into town today to do some grocery shopping and to buy a new vacuum cleaner. Truly, appliances and tools are no longer well-made. They are disposable junk, without a crumb of craftsmanship in an entire acre of store. While in the store, I heard my wife mutter something with outrage under her breath. She pointed out a woman who looked like Oprah Winfrey’s big sister, wearing a skirt with several holes the size of silver dollars. It was clear that this person considers underwear to be optional when appearing in public places.

In spite of this, we were hungry and decided to eat at a Mexican restaurant we’ve patronized before. We were barely seated when I happened to glance up at the ubiquitous big-screen tv in the corner, my eye drawn by the flashing and movement on the screen. I saw the words “Biden Wins!” and felt the nausea crawl all over me.

For our entire meal, Mrs. Orr and I kept our eyes on our plates, eating as quickly as we could so we could escape the room where this disastrous news was being broadcast into the air. Our drive home was beyond somber, and we talked quietly of our children and grandchildren, of the steep decline of our once-beautiful country. As I noted the other day, this situation feels like grief, like a death in the family. The only positive thing about this situation is that it absolutely guarantees that the television will gather dust.

What’s done is done, and I cannot change it by hissing invective between my teeth. I can only try to stay in harness mentally and spiritually, and to protect my family while we continue to live quietly.

~ S.K. Orr

“For someday sons and daughters will rise up and fight while we stood still….”