Tag: statues

bookmark_borderLydia O’Connor, a despicable bully and bigot

Posted on by Marissa

There are no words that can adequately express the cruelty, nastiness, and immorality demonstrated by the despicable lump of flesh and bone that calls itself Lydia O’Connor:

“Trump Signs Order To Restore Inclusive and Diverse Monuments, Remove ‘Anti-America’ Ideology.”

Or perhaps:

“Trump Signs Order To Restore Monuments Signifying That People Who Are Different Actually Have a Right To Exist, Remove ‘Anti-America’ Ideology.”

There, Lydia. I fixed it for you. 

Needless to say, I did not read the entire article, because my mind and nervous system don’t have the resilience needed to handle such a traumatizing experience. Thanks to merely glimpsing the headline, my body is shaking with rage, my stomach is sick, and my chest feels like it’s being crushed in a vice.

This headline, and the accompanying article, are enormously harmful to me as an autistic person who has grown up being excluded, bullied, and different from the norm. The monuments that O’Connor sickeningly characterizes as “racist” are the monuments to people like me. They are monuments to people who are different. They are monuments to the entire concept of being different from the majority, resisting authority, rebelling against social norms, not fitting in, thinking for oneself. They are the monuments that enable a person like me to actually be accepted and included in society. They are the monuments that signify that I have a right to exist. 

But yeah, this is clearly racist.

Obviously, allowing people who are different from the norm to exist, is racist. 

It’s racist to honor a diverse range of viewpoints, stories, and perspectives, rather than only honoring those that conform to the dominant ideology.

It’s racist to accept and include people who are different.

Not.

This headline and article are completely unacceptable. And this is an understatement. In fact, anything negative that could possibly be said about this headline, article, and author would be an understatement, because no language has words adequate for the task of accurately describing such complete moral bankruptcy.

Racist monuments. 

Yup. Because for me to actually have a life worth living is “racist.”

Because allowing me to exist as an autistic person is “racist.”

No.

Wrong, Lydia.

Allowing people who are different form the norm to exist, is not racist.

This is obvious. It should not even need to be stated. It is, in fact, bizarre that it needs to be stated. It is bizarre that over the past five years, I have had to state this again and again, because despite how obvious it objectively is, it is clearly not obvious to a large percentage of the population. Even after five years of living through this hell, it is still both shocking and sickening beyond belief that an ideology has taken over this country which believes that allowing a person like me to exist, allowing a person like me to be accepted and included in society, is racist. 

I have a right to exist. My existing is not racist. Period. Full stop. End of story.

Thanks, Lydia, for completely destroying my morning. Just another attack on my very existence, one of hundreds, if not thousands, of such attacks that I’ve been subjected to for nearly five years now. I am so incredibly sick and tired of people thinking this way, speaking this way, writing this way. I am sick and tired of having to justify my existence again and again, of having to defend my very existence against claims that it is “racist.”

Lydia O’Connor is the epitome of a bigot and a bully with no mind, no soul, no capacity for independent thought, no empathy, and no tolerance for any perspectives other than her own. She and the Huffington Post have inflicted severe harm on me by writing and publishing this article and should be sued for the harm that they have caused. 

I have a right to exist. Statues like these have a right to exist. We are not racist. Period. Full stop. End of story.

bookmark_borderTrump takes action to restore statues on federal sites!

Posted on by Marissa

A very significant piece of good news took place Thursday night, when President Trump signed an executive order titled, “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History.” This order directs the Vice President and the Secretary of the Interior to restore federal parks, monuments, memorials and statues “that have been improperly removed or changed in the last five years to perpetuate a false revision of history or improperly minimize or disparage certain historical figures or events.” 

This is objectively fantastic news and for me, desperately needed. I’ve had an absolutely awful few days and this lifts my spirits somewhat. Trump should have signed this order on his first day in office, but better late than never! This executive order means that thanks to President Trump, the statue genocide will indeed be partially reversed, something that my 2020-2021 self did not think was possible.

Check out some posts / coverage by:

bookmark_borderPhotos of the aftermath of the statue genocide

Posted on by Marissa

Judy Smith recently posted some photos of a drive down Monument Avenue in Richmond, Virginia. These photos are heartbreaking. The one thought that echoes in my mind when looking at images like these is: How could people possibly think that this is a good thing?

Where there once were beautiful statues, there is now nothingness. Where there once was a celebration of history, there is now meaninglessness, purposelessness, and emptiness. Where people who are different from the norm were once accepted, now we are shamed, condemned, attacked, viciously hurt, excluded. Where life was once worth living, now it is not.

“We hate you,” the city of Richmond says to me, as well as to all people who are different.

The city of Richmond, like so many other cities across the United States, was completely ruined. Deliberately. On purpose. People actually thought that this was a good thing to do. How? How could they think this? It is completely incomprehensible to me.

These images depict the sickening result of the statue genocide. Statues of Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, Jeb Stuart, and Matthew Fontaine Maury are supposed to stand on this street, where now there are only vacant expanses of dirt. I will feel rage and grief at what happened to these statues for the rest of my life. I will never fully heal, as long as these hideous wounds remain in the landscape of our country. What happened to these statues was wrong. These statues, these historical figures, and the fact that what happened to them was wrong, must never be forgotten.

bookmark_borderFantastic news re: 250th anniversary, statue garden, and protecting statues!

Posted on by Marissa

On Wednesday, President Trump signed a truly awesome executive order.

The order establishes a task force to plan an “extraordinary celebration” in honor of America’s 250th anniversary, on July 4, 2026. If Trump’s campaign speeches are any indication, the festivities will begin on Memorial Day 2025 and will include a “Great American State Fair” in Iowa, and a “Patriot Games” for high school athletes from across the country.

Additionally, the executive order re-establishes the plan to create a National Garden of American Heroes, a statue garden filled with statues of 250 historical figures. The order goes so far as to commission artists for the first 100 statues, indicating that the statue garden isn’t just an abstract hope, but is actually on the path towards becoming reality. “The National Garden will honor American heroism after dozens of monuments to Americans, including Presidents and Founding Fathers, have toppled or destroyed and never restored,” said a press release.

Speaking of statues that have been topped or destroyed and never restored, the executive order reinstates Trump’s order from 2020 that was aimed at protecting existing statues from destruction at the hands of bigots and bullies. This policy directs the Attorney General to prosecute people and groups responsible for vandalizing and/or destroying statues to the fullest extent of the law. It also withholds federal funding from state and local law enforcement agencies that fail to do the same. The AP describes this order as “reviving efforts to harshly punish those who vandalize or destroy existing statues and monuments.” This is true, and there is absolutely nothing bad about it, because harsh punishment is exactly what such people deserve.

As alluded to above, you might recall that both the plans for the statue garden and the policy strengthening punishments for anti-statue bullies existed previously thanks to an executive order that Trump signed during a dark time that feels simultaneously like yesterday and like a million years ago. (I blogged about it here.) Unfortunately, within his first few days of taking office, Biden mean-spiritedly and cruelly signed an executive order rescinding both of these policies, thereby cancelling plans for the statue garden and deliberately declining to punish the people in our country who are the most deserving of punishment. Although this new executive order doesn’t undo the unspeakable atrocities that were done, I am heartened that Trump has once again chosen to stand up for the statues.

I will never stop fighting for statues, I will never stop advocating on their behalf, I will never forget or forgive what happened to them, and I will never stop writing about them. This is what is truly important. This is what matters. And I’m truly glad that President Trump, to a significant extent, feels the same.

Sources: Newsmax, MSN/AP

bookmark_borderReflections on Christmas 2024

Posted on by Marissa

My entire body was vibrating with tension, frustration, and anger. My chest was tight, a lump was forming in my throat, and tears were forming in my eyes. I was enveloped by an omnipresent sense of time pressure. I felt as if I was being batted around like a ping pong ball, and my head was spinning. There was nowhere to pull over, to regroup, to get myself situated. Inundated with an endless stream of conflicting, contradictory instructions and demands, my brain felt like it was overflowing. “I am so stressed,” I muttered under my breath again and again, heaving one huge sigh after another, but no amount of deep breaths could reduce the level of stress that I felt.

Unfortunately, this is what both my December 23 (Christmas Eve Eve) and December 25 (Christmas) consisted of.

On the 23rd, the chaos was caused by a workday with lots of employees on duty, but not a lot of customers, causing the employees to seemingly spend the entire shift in the break room, talking loudly, causing commotion, and clustering around the free cookies that the boss had brought in for us. (Normally I would be overjoyed at the presence of free cookies, or any type of free food for that matter, but on that occasion the cookies resulted in nothing but chaos, and I didn’t even get to properly look at them and choose which kind to take, because there were so many people constantly crowding around them.)

On Christmas Day, the chaos was caused by a visit to my grandmother at her assisted living place, during which I decided to use the public bathroom down the hall, both because I prefer public bathrooms to those in people’s homes, and because I wanted a chance to get up and walk around. Upon returning, my grandmother and dad looked up expectantly at me, as if I had just beamed down from Mars, and proceeded to interrogate me about where I had gone and why. This is something that if I hadn’t been feeling tired and frustrated to begin with, may have made me only mildly annoyed, but on this occasion it made me feel self-conscious, embarrassed, and humiliated. I was, alas, tired and frustrated because the visit had already lasted longer than I was expecting, and I was well behind schedule on the various tasks I wanted to get done that day.

That being said, I had good days on December 24 (Christmas Eve) and December 26. Overall, I was able to do a variety of festive activities that I enjoyed throughout the season.

On Christmas Eve, the store where I work closed early, so my shift was moved up earlier in the day. Most of my co-workers had the day off, creating a low-key vibe that stood in sharp contrast to the day before. There were a few free snacks in the break room, and I was actually able to enjoy them because there was no chaotic commotion this time. And after work, I had dinner at an Italian restaurant nearby. 

On Christmas Day, despite the bathroom snafu, I was happy with the gifts that I got. These included an American Girl doll named Summer McKinny, a tiny Napoleon and his horse Marengo, a tiny Queen Elizabeth II with her corgis, and a tiny Confederate soldier with his dog. (Can you see a theme developing here? Summer did not come with a pet, but she is an animal lover, and she has a dog-shaped purse, which you can kind of see in the picture.)

The day after Christmas, I had a relaxing day working on my hobbies. I also visited this house with a ridiculous amount of Christmas lights in Saugus, Massachusetts. 

(more photos of the house and neighboring ones can be found here)

A few other things that I did over the course of the holiday season included taking advantage of Cyber Monday sales to gift my dolls with a plethora of new outfits:

Visiting Christopher Columbus, getting a coffee at Caffe Dello Sport, and strolling through the North End:

(more photos like these can be found here)

Watching the Christmas tree lighting on Boston Common:

Sending out Christmas cards featuring my statues: 

Baking Italian anise cookies:

Putting lights up outside my house: 

Visiting the newly installed World War I soldier statue at a park in my town, and admiring his Christmas decorations: 

Buying some seasonal snacks and desserts from the store where I work: 

Buying myself some adorable gifts from Confederate Shop: 

The little gnome, ornaments, teddy bear, and Gadsden flag wind sock are all from Confederate Shop. This is a wonderful, family-owned business that I highly recommend to anyone who loves Confederate stuff like I do.

Visiting my town’s Christmas tree at the pond near my house:

Baking a chocolate peppermint loaf cake: 

By far the best part of my holiday season was decorating the statues – Robert E. Lee, Nathan Bedford Forrest, and Stonewall Jackson. I got a Christmas tree for them, put it up, and strung it with lights. I put festive bells around their necks (a bow for Nathan, because he’s the only one whose neck is skinny enough to tie the bow around) and Santa hats on their heads! My dad had the idea of piling pine boughs at their feet for an added festive touch. There are no words that can capture the warm and fuzzy feeling that filled my soul upon seeing them. 

Visiting the little generals every night upon getting home from work brought joy to my heart. Seeing them with their adorable Santa hats, smelling the piney scent of the tree and boughs, and watching the colorful lights twinkle, truly made me feel the spirit of Christmas. 

bookmark_borderA beautiful day in Boston with Christopher Columbus

Posted on by Marissa

Christopher Columbus is happy today. 

I could tell when I visited him.

Being a statue, he can’t exactly change his facial expression to reflect what he’s feeling. And I’m well aware that most people would say that he isn’t capable of feeling anything at all. But as someone who loves statues more than anything else in the world, and statues of Columbus in particular, I believe in the idea that a statue can feel happiness. Call me crazy, but I believe that on some level, Christopher Columbus knows about the election result and is pleased with it. 

As mentioned above, I decided to visit Christopher today. I had been in a dark and negative headspace regarding his situation, as detailed in this blog post. But with the hope and lightness that the election result brought, I was in the mood to make another trip into the North End to see my favorite statue.

And I’m glad that I did so. 

Before even boarding the train, I was beginning to regret my decision. It was one of those days that is relatively warm, but extremely windy. As an autistic person, this severely bothers my sensory sensitivities. Within the first few minutes of waiting on the train platform, I was frozen to the bone and in agony. I was wearing a light sweater due to the fact that the temperature (according to the weather app, at least) was 67 degrees, but I was soon wishing that I had worn a down parka and ski mask. After what felt like an eternity, the train arrived, but it apparently didn’t pull into the station correctly and had to back up a couple of feet, costing additional minutes. Finally, I was able to board the train and therefore to get a reprieve from the ice-cold wind. 

Once in Boston, my way was blocked numerous times: by people plodding along the narrow sidewalk, by a chaotic intersection at which a truck was trying to turn but none of the cars would allow it to, and by a gaggle of tourists hanging out near the entrance to the Peace Garden of St. Leonard’s Church. 

But once I stepped through the gate of Chris’s new home, the Peace Garden lived up to its name. Gentle music wafted through the air. The biting cold wind ceased. A wide brick path led through the garden, with a delicate-looking fence and elegant lanterns on either side, toward the entrance of the church. To my left were two statues: one of Jesus on the cross and the other of Mother Mary with children gathered around her. To my right were four statues: one of a saint with his arms raised in the air, one of a kindly-looking man surrounded by children, a gold-colored fellow with outstretched arms, and Chris. He stood tall with arms crossed over his chest, as always. Beautiful rosebushes had been planted around his pedestal. The trees cast shadows across his marble face, and their golden leaves drifted softly down to blanket the grass. The sun’s rays cast a warm glow over the peaceful scene. 

A few people trickled into the church for a mass that was starting soon, but for the most part, the garden was deserted, allowing me to spend a few minutes with Chris undisturbed. I didn’t actually talk to him, because that would’ve made me look completely insane, but I admired him, took some photos, and sent my thoughts to him telepathically. (I guess that sounds kind of insane too, now that I think about it.)

Hi Chris, I greeted him. It’s me, Marissa. Do you remember me? I came back, like I promised I would. No matter where you go, I will always find you. I will always come back. I will never forget about you. Are you happy in this place? You look nice here. It is peaceful and beautiful. Did you hear the news? Do you feel happy about it?

As crazy as it sounds, I knew that he did remember me, and that he was happy, about both his home and the election results.

Once I had assured myself of this, I took a closer look at the church building itself, a mosaic displaying the names of its benefactors, and a new sculpture called the Noble Journey, which shows footprints of various sizes representing immigrants coming to America. And then I turned and walked slowly back down the brick path and into the bustling, congested streets of the North End. 

Bye Chris, I thought as I looked back over my shoulder. I’ll be back. Until next time…

Here are some pictures that I took of Chris, his friends, some other things in the Peace Garden, and a couple of other miscellaneous pieces of public art in Boston:

You can view all of my pictures of Chris at St. Leonard’s here. This album also includes the pictures that I took when I visited him for the first time there in September, which I wasn’t in the right headspace to post about at the time.

bookmark_borderA beautiful day

Posted on by Marissa

I am happy today. 

This is the first time in my life that I have voted for a presidential candidate who won. In 2008, the first year I was eligible to vote, I voted for libertarian candidate Bob Barr. In 2012, I voted for libertarian candidate Ron Paul. In 2016, I voted for libertarian candidate Gary Johnson. I was happy that Trump won, and definitely preferred him to Hillary Clinton, but due to the fact that all of Massachusetts’s electoral votes are basically guaranteed to always go to the democratic candidate, I continued my tradition of voting third party. In 2020, I voted for Trump, and he lost. In 2024, I voted for Trump and – it feels both strange and amazing to type these words – he won.

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by Italian Americans 4 Trump 🇺🇸🇮🇹 (@italiani4trump)

It is a beautiful day. Things feel lighter, more hopeful. I feel that I can breathe again. A noose is no longer tightening around my throat, the heavy boot of tyranny no longer stomping on my face. For four years, I never thought that this result would happen. To some extent, it feels magical, unreal, almost like a dream. Part of me feels that any moment I will wake up, and this beautiful reality will be shattered.

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by RFK Jr. (@robertfkennedyjr)

I am proud of my country today. For four years, the sight of the American flag, the sound of patriotic music, and the mention of the Fourth of July made me feel more pain than pride. For me, these things signified the country that had elected a government determined to force people to undergo a medical procedure against their will and to destroy everything that makes life worth living. But now I feel much more positively towards America. Self-righteous bullies have spent four years pompously lecturing about “our democracy,” but now the very democracy that they’ve spent all this time worshipping and fetishizing has elected Donald Trump! Perhaps this country, this democracy, isn’t so bad after all.

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by Vivek Ramaswamy (@vivekgramaswamy)

I admit that Trump is not perfect. He almost certainly does not care about statues with the same intensity as I do, or in the same way that I do. He cannot fully reverse the atrocities that have been committed against historical figures, and by extension against myself. He may not even partially reverse them. But for today at least, it feels like a healing balm has been smoothed over my wounds. This election result is the most significant good thing that has happened in a very long time. It does not undo the pain, anguish, and trauma that I’ve experienced over the past four years. But it helps. It really helps. 

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by Virginia Flaggers (@the_virginia_flaggers)

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by colbycovington (@colbycovington)

Four years ago, at this exact time of year, was the rock bottom of my life. Everything that made my life worth living had been destroyed, the historical figures that I love having been lynched, smashed to pieces, set on fire, beheaded, strangled, and drowned with complete impunity, and the people who committed these atrocities perceived as holding the moral high ground in the eyes of society. And by electing Joe Biden rather than Donald Trump, our country confirmed that they didn’t care about my pain, didn’t care about my perspective, didn’t care about the historical figures’ right to exist. Our country’s response to my pain was to inflict even more of it. Our country’s response to my (metaphorical) gaping, bleeding wounds was to rub salt in them. Seeing other people’s joy, exuberance, celebrations, and gloating, after the excruciating agony that I had experienced over the preceding months, was nothing short of soul-crushing.

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by Jason Aldean (@jasonaldean)

Now, the situation is reversed. It’s the mirror image of that horrible time four years ago. I never thought that such a thing would happen, and I hesitate to type these words for fear that I will somehow jinx it. But the people who gloated so cruelly and gratuitously four years ago, who fell all over each other in their eagerness to shove their spiteful celebrations down my throat, lost. I won, and it is now my turn to gloat. Part of me wants to do exactly that. The people who hurt me deserve to be punished for their actions. Retribution, revenge, justice… these words are all synonyms to me, and all are completely justified in this situation. But another part of me sees the merits of what is commonly referred to as “taking the high road.” If I gloat as nastily as my enemies did, then that makes me like them, at least a little bit. Part of me feels that the people who caused my pain deserve to experience the same pain in return, while part of me feels that no person deserves to experience pain so horrific.

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by Jacob Bryant (@jacobbryantmusic)

Regardless, I am happy today. I intend to savor this feeling, to soak it in, to enjoy it for as long as I can. For the past four and a half years, positive experiences have been hard to come by for me. This is a big and important one, which I truly appreciate.

In an Instagram post which you can view here or below, Breitbart News described Trump’s victory as “indisputably the greatest political comeback in American history,” and I can’t help but agree. Trump is only the second president, after Grover Cleveland, to win two non-consecutive terms, and as the post mentions, he overcame “multiple prosecutions; two assassination attempts; censorship on social media; overt media bias; and even efforts to intimidate his lawyers.”

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by Breitbart (@wearebreitbart)

Breitbart’s mention of overt media bias is no exaggeration. Starting with their coverage of the capitol protest on January 6, 2021, the news media has completely given up on even pretending to be neutral. Their coverage of that protest was appalling, disgraceful, literally sickening, beyond unprofessional, and absolutely shocking to the conscience. Nearly 100% of their political coverage over the ensuing four years has fit those descriptions as well. Any semblance of neutrality, or professionalism for that matter, has completely vanished. Prior to 2020, the news media certainly had a progressive bias, but at least it was covert. Now their bigotry, their closed-mindedness, their utter contempt for anyone who deviates from their totalitarian social norms, is naked, blatant, and on full display. I have been hurt, enraged, and traumatized dozens if not hundreds of times over the past four years thanks to the news media, and this is despite making the decision to almost entirely cease news consumption due to finding it so hurtful, enraging, and traumatizing. Every time I so much as glimpse a biased headline, I am reminded painfully of the fact that news consumption, previously an enjoyable and interesting way to gain information, has devolved into just another way for society to torment me by expressing its rejection and hatred.

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by Charlie Kirk (@charliekirk1776)

Which brings me to the most amazing and remarkable thing about this election result:  for possibly the first time in my life, the people who hurt me didn’t get what they wanted, and I did. The gloating “friends,” acquaintances, family members, and strangers on social media. The mindless conformists who displayed Harris/Walz signs on their lawns in order to remind me every time I walk down the street that they support the lynching of the man that I love. Democratic politicians, activists, and government officials determined to eradicate every last shred of diversity and individual liberty from the earth. Their despicable accomplices in the aforementioned news media, who have traumatized me dozens if not hundreds of times. Bullying prosecutors. Orwellian social media executives. Wannabee assassins. All of these people lost. And I won. That’s something that has never happened to me before, and I am in awe of it. 

 
 
 
 
 
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A post shared by President Donald J. Trump (@realdonaldtrump)

One final observation about Trump’s victory is that it provides a bit of justice, even if only small, for the historical figures. Particularly the statue of Christopher Columbus who stood at the Minnesota state capitol until being lynched by a mob of bigoted bullies in summer 2020. Perhaps statues weren’t in the forefront of voters’ minds when they cast their ballots, but rather overshadowed by more mundane issues such as inflation, social security, immigration, and the economy. Regardless, the man who chose to allow this lynching to happen, and later to characterize it as an understandable act of civil disobedience, lost his bid to become vice president. So today I am thinking about Christopher Columbus of St. Paul, Minnesota. Nothing can undo the atrocity that was done to him, but today brings him a quantum of justice. He, and what was done to him, must never, ever be forgotten. 

Christopher Columbus Statue with the Minnesota State Capitol in background

 

bookmark_borderGlimmers of hope – a photo essay

Posted on by Marissa

The past few blog posts have been pretty negative. It is true that the past few months have not been a great time for me, with numerous setbacks and challenges that have exacerbated my autistic burnout and landed me in a negative headspace. However, things have not been 100% negative, so I wanted to take a break from the negativity and share some things that have brought a smile to my face:

This entertainment column in a local newspaper (called “Aldo, The One on One”) specifically mentioned Columbus Day and Christopher Columbus himself.

I wore this t-shirt to a community event, featuring a drawing of Christopher Columbus that I made. I knew from looking at the schedule for the event that there was going to be a “Land Acknowledgement,” something that I find both hurtful and potentially able to trigger a PTSD attack thanks to its connection with the ideology that is responsible for the traumatizing events involving statues. Because of this, I considered not going at all. But I ultimately decided to go, while wearing this t-shirt as a statement that Christopher’s life matters, and mine does as well. 

After my co-workers caused a PTSD attack by calling Columbus Day, “Indigenous Peoples’ Day” (as explained in this blog post), I decided to wear a Columbus-themed pin the next two days, leading up to Columbus Day. I am not entirely sure what my company’s policy is regarding such pins, but I figured that it would be okay given that a handful of co-workers wear Palestine pins at work. Plus, many co-workers wear jewelry, headbands, and hair accessories in celebration of Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s, Easter, the Fourth of July, and St. Patrick’s Day, and Columbus Day is a holiday just as those are. Ultimately, no one gave me a hard time. That could just be because the pin was too small for anyone to be able to see what it was, but I at least felt that I was making a statement in defense of Columbus.

Also on the Columbus theme, I took baby Christopher Columbus out of his display cabinet and did a photoshoot with him.

My American Girl dolls decided to organize a little get-together to celebrate Columbus Day.

After numerous weeks of lacking the time and energy to do so, I was able to take photos of the beautiful fall leaves, after all. These, for example, were spotted at a local park where I volunteered at an event with my local Republican committee:

(more photos from this park can be found here)

These were taken at the pond near my house:

(more photos from the pond can be found here)

And these were taken at a nearby cemetery:

(more photos from the cemetery can be found here)

I don’t have a photo for this next one, but things are looking up, for the moment at least, with my special interest in sports. The winter sports season has started, and the amount of coverage that NBC and its networks are showing appears to actually be manageable (knock on wood). I am currently caught up on figure skating, am almost caught up on horse racing, and am looking forward to the Breeders’ Cup, which is starting today. And miraculously, I have begun the laborious process of going through my backlog of Olympics recordings, something that until recently, made me nauseous to even think about doing. I watched the very beginning of the equestrian and swimming competitions, both of which involved an officiant ceremonially pounding the ground with a staff to signify the official opening of the venues. Even when watching the events three months later, it was beautiful to see the sun shining through the fog in the background of the early morning dressage competition at the Palace of Versailles.

On a different note, I came across these Trump stickers at the parking garage near my work:

Additionally, I finally got a Trump sign, which my little statues wanted to pose with:

Last but not least, my “Mini Lee” arrived at my house! This is a tiny replica of the Charlottesville statue of Robert E. Lee that was sickeningly destroyed. As you can see, I showed him to the bigger statues, and they think he is pretty cool. These are being sold by Monuments Across Dixie to raise money for a full-size recreation of the statue at a location to be determined. If you are interested in getting your own Mini Lee, more info can be found here.

The world often feels like it is trying to make it impossible for me to have a life that is worth living. But I will continue to fight for such a life, one small glimmer of hope at a time.