Something changed yesterday

My friends and my regular readers know that I have this unusual "thing" about England and English church music, unusual, at least, for an American woman about to turn 61. I mean, even when I was three or four, riding around Schenectady with my parents in our Comet station wagon, I would look out at my surroundings in puzzlement. Where am I? I still feel this way, like I'm in the wrong country. Every time I have been to England, my feet hit the ground and life finally makes sense. It's an odd thing, even odder in the current climate. But then there is the additional fact that one of my first heroines and earliest influences was my grandmother Winnifred Wilton, daughter of pioneering Manitobans who, herself, became a pioneer in the field of law. She died before I was born, but some kind of energetic baton passed from her to me. I've always resonated more with my British and Canadian roots than with my American reality.

Something changed yesterday.

Early in the day, I started Elizabeth Gilbert's Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear. I love Elizabeth Gilbert. I love her writing style, direct, funny, perceptive, honest and conversational. You almost feel like she writes just for you. She's definitely a kindred spirit. Not having a clue how Tuesday would end up, I just remember thinking, she's a role model, and she makes me glad to be another American writer named Elizabeth.

So then at lunch, I spoke with a dear friend who took part in the Women's March on Washington, lo, those long two and a half weeks ago. Listening to her describe her experience, I was filled with such pride. I was proud of all my friends who marched, and millions of women (and men) around the world as well.

At 9 pm, I turned on TV to watch Rachel Maddow, another of my heroines. I respect her take on things and her values. I love her lively facial expressions and her unbelievable intelligence and articulateness (is that a word?) I'm watching very little television about politics; this is an exception. But last night was even more memorable than usual, because the news was breaking that Massachusetts Senator Elizabeth Warren had just been silenced on the floor of the U.S. Senate for reading a letter by (the equally remarkable) Coretta Scott King.

Excuse me? Excuse me? Does the majority leader have any clue what it means to women to be silenced? Does he have any clue that we will no longer be silenced?

I couldn't get to sleep last night, because something crucial has shifted in me. Over the course of 24 hours, I became actively proud to be a brilliant, outspoken, powerful, groundbreaking American woman, honored to be even peripherally in the company of these exceptional human beings. I don't know if this will change my England thing, but it has definitely changed me.