Veterans’ Day: The end of World War I, called the Great War before the next war. This national holiday sees the fewest people off from work—that is the way that we count holidays, right?  I have an oral surgeon appointment this morning, Ed has a doctor’s appointment, Julia’s day center is open, I don’t have my HILR class, Julia has no rowing, and parking is free in Boston today. If there was ever a time to observe and ponder the end of a “great war,” it is today. My very deep hope is that we are not headed straight into another war that the Washington fascists are putting into place. 

Generally, I don’t agree with the most progressive of conservatives, but I would never agree to silence them forever, to ensure that a Republican politician never wins again. I thought that was part of the rules we play by. And yet, that is what this administration is saying—they are going to fix it so no Democrat can ever win again. This is not inference or subtext or even something overheard at a secret meeting. They say it loud and clear for every one of their minions to hear. And they are knee-deep in a dozen conflicts that they are making up as they go along—Orwell had nothing on these guys, these white guys and their lifted and painted white ladies.

Today was a quiet morning.  Perhaps that is why I can give over a few brain cells to a political rant. It is the calm after the storm.

Julia and I talked at length about her behavior yesterday. Always connecting every discussion of this kind to her overall goal: Independence.  Julia and I don’t know the extent of possible independence, but right now in Julia’s mind, independence is taking public transportation, going out without me, going to movies, going to clubs, meeting boys, living with friends, and traveling to Japan.

Would that all of that come true!

Then, we talked tools in her toolbox—long, deep breaths, back rubs, and taps (as far as we’ve gotten to get back to tapping). I asked her to write a letter of apology to the bus driver. We did some of the tapping and back rubbing before our conversation was finished.

Julia seemed relaxed.

Two extraordinary things last night and this morning: Julia asked me to print out the music to a cello piece.  Miles, her teacher, had sent it via email, and I had not printed it.  Whether she was reading her cello assigned for work the week before, that in itself is remarkable, or she remembered that she did not have the music, the ask was striking.  Usually, Julia will ignore what Miles has written or forget about it altogether.  This is a high-interest piece, but still, I was impressed that she asked.

The other thing: Julia was willing to talk about her behavior and avoiding it this morning over breakfast. And the conversation did not start the escalation.

After breakfast, we said that the bus had arrived, again too early, but there it was.  Julia put on her coat and gathered her things. I was holding my breath. Then she dashed into her room—Julia rarely dashes—and grabbed a Japanese magazine with pictures of very cute young men in it.  She said, “It was ‘something to distract me.’” And she headed out to the bus.  She got on and immediately engaged the driver in conversation about the cute young men and then sat and buckled her seatbelt, and they were off.

And I started my day, wondering about all of it.