Judith Rothschild: Untitled-
from Untitled portfolio of fifteen works by Judith Rothschild, Frank Bacher, and Sheri Martinelli (1946)

Why Should Any Of Us Be Any Different?
The turbulent end to this March and the even more turbulent beginning of April realized what had been prefacing since this incumbent took the oath he had no intention of fulfilling. The troubling story continues more or less unabated. When delusion got elected, our collective coping skills were called to kick in along with our harder-won hoping skills. Of course, this week also challenged our collective and individual abilities to hope, for the future looked progressively grimmer with each passing day. I continued writing, sharing my impressions. This morning, a neighbor stopped as she walked by out front, as I was saying goodbye to a visiting childhood friend, to report that she'd just survived a half-hour conversation with someone she felt sure was a Trumper. She was shocky. As I wrote this week, I reminded her that Rome wasn't undermined in a day. It wasn't built in a day, either. Little happens in a single day. However horrible events might seem on some of the more troubling days. Days decide nothing, though they can appear to undermine everything. That sense that all is lost must certainly be illusory. Even more illusory than that sense that our hope might be fruitless. I'm pleading for maintaing the quality of my experience at pretty much any cost, so I took some respite days and crawled around my yard preparing for Spring this week. Few things cannot be improved by crawling around a yard preparing for Spring. Spring comes regardless of our hopefulness to deliver reassurance not one of us was ever worthy of receiving. The Maribelle plum trees are blooming. The magenta ornamental crabapple is threatening to astound. Why should any of us be any different?

——

Weekly Writing Summary

This CHope Story finds me railing against those who would even attempt to ChangingThePast. Nobody can change any past. It amounts to wasted effort and a sure sign of a repressive regime.

Mel Bochner: If the Color Changes [MB2042] (2001) © Mel Bochner
"They toil to expunge themselves. Good riddance!"
—
This CHope Story considers the depth of denial any wannabe dictator must project. To secure power, they must tolerate an incredible volume of WitchHunting.

Jean Veber: Witches (1900)
"All accusations to the contrary qualify as WitchHunting."
—
This CHope Story predicts the downfall of the most Hubris-ridden administration in history. Had they been properly educated and encultured, they might have known they were undermining their stated intentions, but they weren't, and so they didn't. Hubris is Humpty Dumpty before his fall.

Anonymous, after print by Jean Veber: Schaduw van Paul Kruger hangt over het Franse leger tijdens de wapenschouw te Bétheny, [Shadow of Paul Kruger hangs over the French army during the gun show in Bétheny] (1901)
"They will exit on the same horse they rode in on."
—
This CHope Story, Forty-fourth, celebrates what I acknowledge as Nobody's Fool Day, my darling departed daughter's birthday. She was never anybody's fool, though, like everybody, she was occasionally fooled. Today, I remember the vulnerabilities to which our present incumbent firmly believes he's invulnerable. These will be his undoing.

Harold Edgerton: Ouch! [Archery] (1934)
" … and I don’t think they can!"
—
"If you knew the world would end tomorrow, would you plant a tree today?" (Peter Block)

This CHope Story, Respite, finds me renewing rather than obsessing. It's refreshing and necessary, for nobody can remain posted and watchful for interminable periods.

Robert Capa: Wounded Loyalist Is Aided Behind The Lines, Spanish Civil War (1937)
" … must I remain on the ramparts as if my presence alone repels a disoriented and misguided aggressor?"
—
This CHope Story riffs on Power: Power potential and Power degraded. The paradoxes of Power seem most apparent when it's misused.

Jan Asselijn: The Threatened Swan (c. 1650)
"Who went too far?"
—
I felt as though I was cherry-picking from an abundant crop whenever I sat down to write my CHope Stories this week. So many curious edges to expound upon! ChangingThePast might qualify as a new category of Olympic competition, as common as the attempt to commit has become. How interesting that so many of our incumbent's activities seem fruitless. Then, on to a busy day of WitchHunting, denial being the seasonal fashion statement this Spring. The Hubris accompanying every presidential proclamation covers each felony like a sloppy sausage gravy intended to replace the sausage actual legal legislation traditionally produces. I stepped aside from my coping and hoping efforts to fondly remember my darling daughta Heidi on the 43rd anniversary of her April Nobody's Fools Day birth, and, as I said above, to crawl around my yard conjuring up Spring. I ended this writing week with a short rant describing the paradox of Power, something our incumbent doesn't suspect will ultimately do in him and his hapless administration. Thank you for following along. I hope these stories have encouraged your hopefulness.

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #CHope , #PureSchmaltz