Monday, January 20, 2025
Time: 5:15 PM
Song: Life in the Fast Lane
Artist: The Eagles
Mode of Consumption: Listening to MP3s on car radio on ride home from work.
Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/7aMJo6bv0PFq2bX969Wgos?si=15276693f5214131
The ride to and from work takes approximately 23 minutes, or somewhere between five and seven songs on my MP3 player.
It’s a Monday evening on a bitterly cold January day when the month is transitioning from mid-month to late-month, and daylight is gradually extending deeper into the five o’clock hour. The sky is a mixture of purples and blues and grays. Not beautiful, but far from an eyesore.
It’s a big day for the U.S., as the 47th President is sworn into office, and I am sure there will be an avalanche of happy and angry posts piled into my social media accounts. I have decided to sit this term out. I am limiting my Facebook time and reduced my Twitter time to almost nil. I lived through one of these train wrecks clinging to my sanity, this time I am just going to do my best to ignore it, and hope we come out the other side okay. This is less a commentary on the political figures and more on the (over)reactionary nature of social media in this partisan climate. If you believe in democracy, and the republic we’ve built, then there shouldn’t be seismic shifts from one election, that’s sort of the point – stability. It’s not perfect, but nothing is. If you want huge changes, you probably are going to get something other than a republic and likely a complete loss of stability.
That’s all l am going to say on the matter. I’m sitting this one out, remember. Maybe not the most responsible action as a citizen, but that’s where I am at.
My path home is mostly a two-lane country road that starts out through the rolling hills of a subdivision filled with pretty nice houses. Some of the homeowners like to pull out in front of me daily without looking to see if anyone is coming. Sometimes I swear at that, but I’ve grown used to it.
Just past that, there’s a stretch where there’s a smattering of farm houses surrounded by empty fields. In the middle of a field to the left, a single deer stands, it watches me as I watch it. Then I am gone.
Prairieville, a tiny village, passes on my left a few minutes later, and after that, I pass the imaginary line between Lee County and Whiteside County.
I pass houses where I know the people inside. I wonder what they are up to. I pass houses of people I don’t know, and wonder what they are up to.
At the stop sign at IL Route 40, Oak Knoll Cemetery is on the right. I think of the loved ones there. My grandparents. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. My father-in-law. I pass this place every day, and figure someday I’ll stop here and never go anywhere else again.
It’s about five miles to home from there. It’s getting dark, probably colder. I am thinking about things I’ll do tonight, and about things I need to do tomorrow.
I get home. I pet my dog. I kiss my wife.
In twelve hours, I’ll be waking up to do it all over again.
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