He had almost killed me with his recklessness, but his response was predictable.  An extended middle finger and a shout of profanity as he passed.  What else did I expect?  This is America, where we think nobody has the right criticize us for any reason.

Call me uncultured but Dr. Suess is really the only poet I like. Amanda Gorman is good too. But on this 1rst Anniversary of last year’s Covid Shutdown- I decided to amuse myself with a poem about Covid-wear. Hopefully you’ll find it amusing too.

I quit my teaching job about a year and a half ago. At school, I was counted as a retiree, but I really didn’t deserve that title. The others who retired with me had more years of service and really earned the title.

I was just a quitter. And I don’t say that to disparage myself- I have no problem with it. Besides I was only 49- too young to retire anyway.

We’re a family of musicians. Our house was usually noisy when my daughters were growing up (mostly my fault), and we had fun making up songs and messing around with various instruments. When the girls got into high school, we started to occasionally work on recording a few songs. Since 2018, we’ve recorded an annual holiday single and used it as a fundraiser for a charity or cause we believe in.

That’s right Harry Potter fans, I’m a Slytherin. The Hogwarts house of Voldemort, Lestrange and the Malfoys. A place of evil. But it’s not so simple. Slytherins are complex. After all, we’re also the house of Severus Snape and Merlin.

Like most people, Slytherins are a complicated bunch of conflicting impulses, both good and bad. Sometimes these impulses wage war on each other at the expense of the person they inhabit.

Read any of the Hogwarts House profiles online, and you’ll find that Slytherins have a strong self-preservation streak and can also be very loyal to those in their group. These are the two traits that caused my recent Covid conflict.

I had just voted for myself. It felt exciting and very weird. I was thinking a bit nervously about what a councilman’s workload might be like as I walked out of our fire station polling place and into the cool, damp November air. It was cloudy and dreary. Good weather for worrying.

I wasn’t worried about losing. That I could handle. I was worried about doing a good job if I won.

While standing outside talking to someone I knew, a trash-talker from the other party came over and started in on me.