Mommyblogging

Raise Less Corn, More Hell

And happy Mother's Day in a weird weird world.

Here is your presumably eighth rendition of Mi Mamacita Communista, or Things My Mother Taught Me, which I first wrote for May Day 2008, shortly before the country found its mind and elected the smart nice black guy, and started serializing I guess in 2012, when I bought this joint. Some different things have happened since then! I no longer think Stalin was hilarious, and it turns out Daniel Ortega is not that awesome of a Nicaraguan president, so that's upsetting. Some other things are even more upsetting, like pretty much all of it. Didn't see "global pandemic" coming, or at least not exactly when it did, in the middle of impeaching the criminal president. Who is Donald Trump.

This year, for the first time in my lifetime, and I am a spritely nice grandmother, we can't put on our Marching Zapatos of Occupado Justice. Isn't that a strange how do ye do? This year, protesting is for anti-vaxxers and gun nuts only — they're allies now, along with Johnny Reb! — while the rest of us focus on being okay with just losing a year, and getting through it. It happens sometimes, you lose a year; it just doesn't work out. This guy says every hundred years, the world loses a year together. We're on hold. We're in stasis. I just looked up stasis to make sure I was using it right, and yes, it's a long period of inactivity. It's also civil strife. How did the dictionary know? We'll be fine.

My sweet progressive neighbor stopped by the fence yesterday while we were doing our Mother's Day deck gardening. (Never saw "living in Montana" coming either!) I had my small daughter (didn't expect her too also!) back up a few feet from said sweet neighbor and explained lightly we are "corona-aware." Oh, I'm not, my sweet neighbor said, sweetly, and then explained that she has "heard different things," for instance am I not worried they might be making it up to use a vaccine to chip us? No, honey, they don't need to chip us, I promise. We all have cell phones! She believes in global warming; new diseases can come out of the frozen tundra at any time! It was a gentle two-minute lecture instead of a 10-minute one, to give her something to ponder instead of getting defensive and frozen in place. It's very rare in Montana still, I acknowledged, but it just takes one. I don't think she heard me at all, so now "sweet neighbor who could kill us by breathing on us at any time" is a thing I did not see coming either. Oh 2020, you sly dog, with rabies and the brain worms and some nazis sometimes.

Mi mamacita communista is still in Oklahoma, still has — unaccountably — not been burned for a witch, and had a little bit of cancer these past couple of months. Now she can shoot arrows better, Amazon-styley. She's lonely out in the country. She yells at people in the hardware store if they don't have their masks on, because none of them have their masks on. She has been prescribed a medicine that takes her estrogen away, so she is all testosterone all the time, stone cold yelling at people in hardware stores and, pace Andrew Sullivan, punching God in the face. Appreciate your estrogen is a new lesson she has taught me, still teaching me lessons 47 years later. Love your mother.

And so today is May Day! We can have — or heave! — a cocktail for the working man. We can put on Our Marching Zapatos of Ocupado Justice! We can do lots and loads of things! But me, I'm missing mi mamacita communista. She didn't die or anything, she just retired and moved back to Oklahoma, where they still (unaccountably) haven't burned her for a witch.

These are things my mother taught me.

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