Why I’m holding my tongue on the home front
I am, as you’ve all probably gathered by now, an almost excessively verbal person. The old expression “She can talk the hind leg off a donkey” was invented with someone like me in mind. Given the opportunity, I can sustain an entire conversation single-handedly. (I think it might be called a monologue.) The only things that save me from total boorishness are (1) that I actually find other people very interesting and (2) that my Momma raised me with something approaching good manners.
All of which is to say that, being as verbal as I am, one of the main ways in which I experience my life is through words. Whether something good or bad happens, I want to talk about it. In this case, of course, the good thing was the Rush mention. I’ve been able to write about it with all of you (thank you!), but I haven’t been able to run this one through my mouth. For reasons only my synapses know, this has been very frustrating to me.
Yesterday, I decided to tell someone I trust: my sister. My sister is the most non-judgmental person I know, plus she loves me a great deal, plus she’s only lukewarm politically. Despite all these things, when I told her about the Rush mention, she treated me as if I’d announced that I’d won first place in a pole dancing contest: pleased for my happiness, but dismayed by the whole sordid thing!
No wonder I’m disinclined to tell those in my corporeal world that, in my chosen political pond, I’ve gotten the friendly wink from one of the biggest fishes of all. Even the most generous hearted of them will find it hard to appreciate my happiness over what they see as a wallow in the cesspool.