blahg, blahg, blahg…

Riding my bike for a couple of hours yesterday took me on many roads in and around town. Primary elections are near, thus I saw plenty of yard signs for plenty of hopeful candidates as I rode along. Lots of them boasted campaign slogans that got my mind to thinking, but one in particular stuck with me longer. The candidate it belongs to is running on a platform of securing individuals’ prosperity.

I am left assuming, in today’s political climate, that this means slashing taxes and thereby insuring that you get to somehow keep more of your “hard earned” cash. In other words, prosperity means money. Not much else. Oh, I’m sure if pressed the candidate would claim it’s more than that. He’d say something about freedom and democracy and such, but in my case, such assertions fall on deaf ears. My ears have heard enough.

As I rode along, I asked myself how I define prosperity. I wondered what kind of society our’s might be if it gave more than lip service to the ideals of education and hard work and health care and family. Each of these, for me, represents prosperity much more than a tax-free world.

The Beatles sang “Can’t buy me love” and they were right. Can’t buy me friendship, a working mind, good health, time to enjoy music or a good book, either. Study after study has shown that beyond a decent income that allows for our basic needs, plus a few extras, met, an abundant accumulation of money and things adds no value to a person’s perception of his or her life. Personally, I’d rather give my vote to one running on that platform, i.e. the one committed to protecting each person’s true value, and a society that fosters such.

I read a passage in the book, “Crow Planet”, by Lyanda Lynn Haupt, this morning that caused one of those frequently occuring experiences for me; it made me want to converse with the author. I wanted to say, “Hey! I do that, too!”

Such connections with writers and musicians have long been a constant in my life. I am influenced greatly by the words of others that come through pages or songs. Over time, if I read enough of their writing or watch the collection of their CDs grow on my shelf, I begin to think that they are my friends. And in some ways, they are.

I have spent many a serious, quiet morning with Karen Armstrong. I have laughed out loud with Mark Salzman. Recently, I have spent hours on end listening to the words of Bridget Kearny (Joy Kills Sorrow), wondering where and how such simple, beautiful poetry comes from. I imagine myself asking her over coffee, “How do you write a song?” Such are the gifts of friendship, be they real or imagined.

After reading the passage this morning, I remembered that I am a fan of Haupt’s Facebook page and decided to visit it and share my, “Hey! I do that, too” thought. I don’t know that she herself maintains this page or sees the things people post there. For all I know, these new social media outlets are nothing more than the fan mail P.O. boxes of an earlier time. Still, the idea that I can so easily connect with the person who put those words on the page of the book that sits on my lap and gives me joy reading it… well, I find that an interesting and somewhat comforting thought.

Haupt writes of being an urban naturalist. Her writing, in some ways, reminds me of my most favorite author ever, Annie Dillard. I cannot imagine the reclusive Dillard, who point blank says she neither reads nor answers the mail of strangers, having a Facebook page or a Twitter account. Part of her genius, I believe, is born of that character. I imagine her such an intense personality that I’m not sure I’d ever want to meet her, yet there will always be a part of me that wishes to offer her my thanks for the many, many mysterious and wonderful hours we have spent together. If she ever did possess such a virtual, social space, I’d take advantage.