Saying “Good Morning” to Someone at 4:30 P.M.
On protest.
Friends, how are we? I’ve been hearing Pete Campbell yelling, NOT GREAT, BOB!, in my head for the last ten (oh god, it’s only been ten) days.
I missed last week’s Enthusiasms because I simply couldn’t get my shit together, what with the horrors and all. I can’t say I am doing better now, but I am here.
On the Wednesday after the Inauguration, I had a dentist appointment at 4:30 p.m. I arrived—on time, if not a bit early—and promptly received the world’s heartiest Good morning! from the receptionist across the room.
Given that it was definitively not morning, we both cracked up. Laughing so much about it made us both laugh harder, and we went like this for what felt like a full minute.
When I was talking to my therapist this week, I was saying how I felt very stuck—I don’t know what to do next because so many things are wrong, and I doubt my ability to change any of them. But I told her about this moment at the dentist and how it was one of the few things that had made me feel hopeful—a reminder that they can’t steal everything—and she said yes, that maybe in a small way, these things are a kind of protest. To affirm, again and again, your humanity and that of those around you, and to still find joy and humor and lightness—things the powers-that-be want you to forget. So, I don’t have a lot. But there’s that.