National Anxiety

I went to bed Sunday night after the entire Presidential debate. That's fairly late for me since I usually get up at 5 a.m. But as I lay my head on my pillow, I felt a buzzing  in my chest, in my stomach. I couldn't settle the agitation. I turned on Pandora nature sounds, setting it to go off within half an hour, but I was still awake when it went off. What was going on with me? Why was I so unsettled?
My daughter called me for the third day in a row. She wanted to talk while she was driving. She felt on the edge of an anxiety attack. She couldn't understand why they were happening; she hadn't experienced them for awhile.
Then she stopped. "I think it was the tape that came out on Friday," she said, making a connection with her anxiousness and the bragging of a powerful man that he can force himself on women any time he wants.
That kick started the nausea that she feels, the racing of her heart, that feeling of metal in her mouth.
I don't think she and I are alone in this kick-in-the-gut feeling.
Women have known men like this all our lives. Sometimes we're strong enough to fight back, sometimes we wonder did we do something to lead them on, and sometimes we swallow the uncomfortableness and never tell anyone.
When I was a girl, 11 or so,  I went with my cousin to visit her grandparents on her father's side. They were a lovely old couple. I sat on the porch swing with the grandfather while my cousin went with her grandmother to the garden. The man's arm resting on the back swing reached over and snapped my bra strap.
Thwack. I felt the elastic and heard the twang.
I was shocked. I sat still, wondering what I should do. I let a minute go by before I slid off the swing, saying I was going to find my cousin. He laughed.
I never told anyone that happened. I felt ashamed that a nice old man would have done that to me. He obviously didn't see me as a little girl but as a sexual object, even at that age. I never went with my cousin to her grandparents' house again.
Of course, it's different when it was boys my age who would pull my bra strap. The power makes a huge disparity in how women feel -- like we have no way out. We only have to grit our teeth and take it.
So as we both dealt with uncomfortable sensations this week, I suggested to my daughter that she might  tamp down the anxiety if she stopped listening to political news and if she went to the early polling place to vote.
"Once you vote, maybe you'll feel some sense of resolution, knowing you've done what you can to prevent him from winning," I said.
She hasn't gone to vote yet and she called today after retching over the toilet at work. I don't think she'll be able to make it to early voting during the week since the polls are open 8-6 and she works 9-5. So she'll have to wait until Oct. 29 when the polls stay open on the weekends.
I hope both of us can turn our attention away from the ugliness that has invaded our society, until we can put it to rest on November 8.

Flattery and Flirting

Every woman loves a compliment.
I'm lucky that I'm married to a man who continues to compliment me, but sometimes I'm suspicious that his compliments are colored by the fact that he loves me.
My husband would also tell you that I'm fairly oblivious to men who flirt. That's what he told me when I came home from the library a few weeks ago and told him the librarian had erased a missing book on CD from my library card.
I couldn't find the book on CD anywhere in the car, so I asked the librarian to see if it had been returned and not checked in. He looked on the shelves and told me that, although it wasn't there, he'd take it off my card.
"Just return it if you find it," he said.
When I went home, I told Earl about the interaction and commented that the librarian was very kind.
"Uh-huh," Earl said.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said.
The next week, Earl cleaned the car and found the missing book on CD. I returned it and felt kind of sheepish. The librarian who had helped me wasn't around so I didn't have to confess my mistake. But when I went to the library again this week, he was there.
"Oh, hello," he said as he walked past me while I was browsing the shelves.
I might not have interacted with him again, except the computer popped up a warning that I needed to pay my fines before I could check out.
I moved to the main desk with my stack of books and started to sign in on a different computer where I could pay my fines. The librarian stood behind the desk.
"You know," I said, "I found that book on CD that you took off my card."
"That always happens," he said.
"I was glad you weren't here when I returned it. I would've been embarassed," I said. "I peeked to make sure you weren't here before I came in with it."
"Yeah, cause I would've held it up and told everyone," he said.
He turned to a computer behind the desk and said he could help me with my fines and checking out. He remembered my name and already had my account up on his computer.
I stepped over to the other part of the desk.
"I remembered your name from last time," he said.
"Oh." I was surprised.
"I remember because I wanted to tell you that you're one of the most beautiful women I've seen."
He turned to run my credit card through the machine to pay off my fees.
"Is there a 'vote-for-your-favorite-librarian contest' going on?" I teased, looking around.
"No, really. I mean it. I'm sure you hear that all the time."
Well, surprisingly, other than my husband, people don't tell me I'm beautiful. And although I didn't say that, it did make me realize that I'm not wearing a wedding ring, not since my ring finger started breaking out this summer.
That would have been a perfect chance for me to mention my husband to the librarian. But, I have a book coming out soon and I would love to have a librarian on my side when it comes time to recommend buying copies of the book.
So instead, I said, "Ahh, I'm too old to hear that any more."
"Well, I'll remind you every time you come in because you should hear it," he said.
And I left the library with my books, feeling a little awkward, but my spirits slightly buoyed.
It's not everyday a woman gets told she's beautiful. But maybe we all should.

First Paragraph -- The Proper Care and Maintenance of Friendship

Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
Yesterday, I picked up The Proper Care and Maintenance of Friendship by Lisa Verge Higgins.
The cover shows the backs of four women facing the sea. They all have different colored hats on, which is kind of corny, but I've been thinking about friendship a lot lately, so I'm game for a book on women's friendships.
Here are the first two paragraphs:

When the rumbling Cessna heaved into the sky, Kate Jansen completely lost her nerve.
She seized the strap of her seat belt as the whole plane shuddered. Through the dirty window she glimpsed Jo and Sarah -- her two best friends in the world -- standing on the tarmac and shrinking swiftly into the distance.

I kept going with the opening and Kate is preparing to skydive even though she is afraid of heights. Why? Because her friend Rachel who died (don't know how yet) left her a letter with dying wishes that Kate go skydiving. The other friends' letters are a mystery so far. Why is that dead friends always have so much more wisdom than live friends. Couldn't this Rachel have helped her friends be better people while she was alive?
What do you think? Would you keep reading?