WordSisters

Category: Worrying

  • Chasing Spring

    The youngest member of the extended family is crawling and wanting to walk. His four-year-old sister prefers hitting a softball that is pitched, not set on a tee. The older cousin is closing in on successfully completing her first year of middle school. They are progressing in predictable ways that we all celebrate.

    If only the spring of 2026 would be as predictable instead of posting temperatures inspiring sundress wearing one day and tumbling forty degrees in a handful of hours. Snow, sleet, ice, rain and sunshine can be experienced during a school or workday. In the cities frequent snowstorms topped with melt and freeze have turned streets, even major thoroughfares, into pothole disasters. In the Midwest, farmers ducks float where spring fieldwork should be happening. 

    We could accept Mother Nature’s uncertainty in April. In May, we are done with heavy fleece jackets and would like to get the kids out of shoes that were worn a size too small through late winter snowy, slushy weather. But we’ll wait until spring really settles in. Money is as tight as the kids’ old shoes.

    Farmers can’t afford the same amount of fuel and fertilizer they ordered in 2025. Families don’t talk about summer vacation travels. Many worry about the coming expenses of feeding kids two additional meals much less extra day care or camp programs. We’re putting in vegetables where marigolds or coleus filled garden spaces. It makes sense if you have the time. Teach the kids about gardening and tending vegetables instead of using gas on unnecessary shopping trips. Maybe neighbors can pool childcare to save money. This might be the summer the grandparents are able to host grandma camp, or a cousin would appreciate getting out of their own home to hang out with the youngers.  

    It’s been a rough year and we can weather this. The kids want to spend time with their parents whether on a lake or in a community pool. We made it through Covid with its isolation and money squeeze. We supported each other through the Ice surges. Now we must figure out soaring gas prices and inflation. If we share with each other from what we have for a few months, we can manage a decent summer.  If spring will truly let go.  

  • Reflections on Carl Sagan’s “Pale Blue Dot”

    The recent Artemis II mission photos of Earth brought Sagan’s “Pale Blue Dot” to mind. The photo from 1990 shows Earth as a tiny speck, “the pale blue dot” drifting in one of many galaxies in the observable universe. I recalled liking his speech from 1994 about the photo, but didn’t remember more than that. I was surprised how much his words spoke to me today.

    NASA image taken by Astronaut Reid Wiseman on April 2, 2026

    Initially, when I searched for the speech, I was looking for distraction from planning my extended family’s yearly gathering. I was overwhelmed and bedeviled by details. 

    When I read, “That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. . . . every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam,” I reset and quit fretting. The family party will all work out—as most things do.

    Even more valuable was the perspective Sagan offered about my larger worries for our country’s future, specifically my fear of unhinged leaders plunging us into a 3rd world war:

    “The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. . . . there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world.”

    His words reminded me to have hope. Humanity is resilient and has endured for millennia. Even our current horrible leader will be gone one day. No regime lasts forever.

    However, the Earth itself isn’t endlessly resilient. Sagan’s words helped me refocus: 

    “Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. . . . there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. . . . To me, it (the photo of our tiny world) underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”

    No matter what, we have to care about preserving our planet. In the U.S., in this moment, the odds seem against us. But the stakes are too high. We have to persist and I believe we will. Right now, other countries are showing the way, but we won’t dwell in the stupidity of today’s policies forever.

    Sagan’s wisdom comforted me. In 1994, he saw the sweep of history and imagined a future he hadn’t seen—our current reality—one which included “every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer.” I imagine he wouldn’t be surprised by the present state of our world, but he would urge us to recommit to saving Earth.

    I hope you’ll read “Pale Blue Dot” in its entirety and be inspired by Sagan’s wisdom and perspective.

  • Choosing to Believe

    A few weeks ago, I visited Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona memorial. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My father was in the Navy during WWII at Normandy and later in the Pacific. I wanted to honor his service and the legacy of my parents’ generation who sacrificed and died to preserve our democracy.

    I stared into the water at the rusting sunken ship, which is a gravesite for more than 900 sailors. I wondered if they were young like Dad who signed up at 21, or if they had any idea what they were getting into when they joined the Navy. Pearl Harbor was a large naval base, but in 1941, it probably seemed like they were in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing important. Until it was bombed.

    USS Arizona Memorial

    In his later years, Dad said matter-of-factly, “War is hell.” He didn’t favor patriotic parades or ever make a big deal out of his service. Much as he hated war, he was also profoundly committed to preserving democracy. 

    Standing on deck of the memorial with the breeze rippling the water and lifting my hair, I didn’t feel a deep connection to Dad. Instead I felt frustrated, angry, and deeply sad that 85 years later, our country’s democracy is crumbling. I want to apologize to all the people who sacrificed and died so we wouldn’t see a day when the Current Occupant would engage us in a senseless war, trash our relationships with our international allies, and run roughshod over citizens’ constitutionally protected rights.

    I am worried about our country’s future. We certainly weren’t perfect 10 years ago or 20 years ago, but at least democracy was viable and mostly functioning then.

    More recently, I heard Yo-Yo Ma perform with the Minnesota Symphony Orchestra, and the music was as exceptional and moving as I expected. When he came out to play an encore, he alluded to Minnesota’s ordeal with ICE and our impressive community spirit. The audience clapped long and loud, grateful to be seen and acknowledged. Ma described the piece by Pablo Casals he intended to play. He said the music gets so quiet it almost disappears and there is fragility in the moment, but the music grows and fragility becomes strength.

    I am choosing to believe that as fragile as our democracy is right now, too many of us believe in it to let it disappear, so it will grow strong again.