Election Result: It Will Be OK

Introduction

This post is not about politics. As I’ve explained before in these pages, I almost never discuss politics, with anybody. It’s pointless. Either you sit around agreeing with one another, in which case the dialogue inevitably drifts toward one-upmanship around who’s more knowledgeable, or you disagree, in which case you feel attacked, your brain goes into limbic override, and you lament even knowing such an ignoramus, much less having to talk to one.

This post is about how to survive this week’s election, regardless of whom you hoped would win. It’s a plea to locate your better mindset and hang on to it for dear life. (If you are not living in the United States, your elections and overall life situation may vary considerably from mine, in which case this post may not have much value to you … but I suppose you could read it anyway if you have Americans in your life.)

Why now?

I am sitting down to write this right now, on the afternoon of Election Day, because I don’t yet have the foggiest idea how the election is going. I am not the type to be glued to the news, riding a roller coaster of emotion as this or that state topples to this or that candidate. I never doomscroll, and especially not today. Thus, this is the perfect time, while my mind is still clear, to try to make some points about the survivability of any outcome, before I run the real risk of having my brain completely saturated in cortisol, and trying to think through the dense fog—actually, smog—which will make self-soothing very difficult later.

Since I am posting this essay ahead of the election returns, you and I will have something topical to read that dates from the Before Times, when it was still possible to take a deep breath and try to reassure ourselves that life will continue to be okay. Naturally, if my preferred candidate wins, and I don’t need to reread this, that would be wonderful. Otherwise, at least I will have something to cling to: the knowledge that a day ago, a week ago, or whenever ago, it was still possible to keep my chin up. And it still is.

What is at stake?

It’s tempting to believe that this election is a way to assess the state of America’s soul. If our strong, honest, virtuous candidate wins, the feeling goes, then we can conclude that our country is in good shape, that we’re still a good people, that the United States still deserves to be a world leader. On the other hand, if the evil, wicked, soulless candidate wins, it’s because America has fallen like Rome, and our people have lost their way, and we might as well be thrown to the wolves. And yet in reality, this is such a close race, it will be decided by tiny fractions of a percent of votes in this or that state, and the bizarre electoral college system, and possibly even by hanging chads or whatever the 2024 equivalent of that is. Whatever happens today (or however long this election takes to be decided), no conclusion can really be drawn about Americans as a whole, unless there’s some massive wave of epiphany that fundamentally alters millions of us overnight. We’ll be the same people next week as we were last week.

To summarize: our national character, I am arguing, is not at stake. Another thing that isn’t at stake is our fundamental quality of life and our liberty in this country. I gather that I may have just pissed you off by asserting this, but I will stand by it, flying in the face of the giant campaigning machines that have been beating us over the head with the fact that nothing less than democracy in America hangs in the balance of this election. I think that’s overstated. Whatever ideals this country was built on, however the Constitution does or doesn’t protect us, our government has a lot of complicated machinery in it, with a bias towards gridlock. There are checks and balances, and the capacity for thunderous disagreements and long, hard, protracted fights before any change gets made, good or bad. Whether the two-party system is lame, or doomed, or fatally flawed, these two sides will not give up easily and are very good at stopping each other from gaining too much ground. Sure, we have seen very important changes in the last eight years, but they were not tectonic. The essence of our experience in this country will not change overnight.

You may beg to differ, you may call me a fool, all of that is fine (and is the reason I so seldom even approach the periphery of politics on this blog). But I think to ignore the differences between the U.S. and, say, Russia or North Korea or China is to be absurdly ungrateful for the strength and resilience of our country.

Crushing leaves

At one point during this century (I won’t be more specific because this is a non-partisan essay), a presidential election went the way I didn’t want it to, and I felt despondent. For the first time in my voting life, the outcome didn’t seem like it could really even be true. I went out for a late afternoon bike ride—my go-to activity for working through stress—and as I pedaled up Monterey Ave, I happened to run over a perfectly dry and crispy leaf. As I’ve blogged before, I love crushing leaves:

Make fun of me if you want—I just love this activity. This is the perfect time of year for it: the sidewalk and street are littered with leaves and on a warm afternoon they’re perfectly crisp and ready for crunching. The sound is almost identical to a cat eating a potato chip, which I’ve been lucky enough to witness. The wind blows the leaves into big piles I can ride through on my bike. I can even feel the crunching, as light as it is. My kids and I dance all over the sidewalk, vying for the perfect leaf. The kids fight occasionally, like two surfers claiming the same wave. Then there is a kind of larger leaf that isn’t crunchable, but rattles along the sidewalk when kicked, like a big weird crustacean.

Out of nowhere, I had the realization that there was absolutely nothing our new president could do to deprive me of this simple pleasure. The U.S. government just doesn’t have that kind of power. (It is true that during China’s “Great Leap Forward” all kinds of dramatic things happened—for example, something like a billion sparrows were slaughtered—but at the end of the day America is still a hog-tied democracy, thank goodness.)

It was a lovely fall day and an abundance of leaves lined the shoulder of the road, and I began steering for them, crushing one after another, getting inordinate joy from the simplicity of this basic act that I was able to do both before and after the election. As my ride continued I began to catalog all the other pleasures available to me: good, clean air that I gulped greedily as I pounded the pedals; smooth roads twisting gracefully through the hills of Tilden Park; robust health; sunshine; a view of the Bay; a pretty sunset; the pleasure of descending swiftly toward home; the satisfaction of having a home to return to. None of this would be taken away just because my candidate lost.

Fun

So: where did that description of crushing leaves come from? It’s a blog post I did ages ago called, “In Defense of Fun.” Why does fun need to be defended? Because we get distracted, and maybe we get guilty, and maybe we’re too depressed to indulge in it, which is a shame. My own appreciation of fun was rekindled by my kids, and that’s what brought about that post. Today I looked back to that post in advance of possible heartbreak tomorrow morning (or whenever I face the music and learn the outcome of this election), to remind myself that it’s okay—in fact, it’s necessary—to seize our capacity to appreciate what we still have, whatever that is, and to enjoy it. We’re not required to be depressed and sullen and spend the next four years crying in our beer.

I’m not saying the solution to political turmoil is to just blow it off and have fun. I’m just taking advantage of having included a list, in my “Defense of Fun” post fifteen years ago, of my top 20 ways to have fun. I went through that list just now to determine how many of these activities will no longer be possible if this election goes the wrong way. Here is the list:

Surprise, surprise: none of these things will suddenly become impossible. Neither candidate promised, “If I am elected, America will no longer have to face the nightmare of people fixing their bikes, snapping photos, drinking beer, and people-watching. My administration will ban the crushing of leaves along with all BS pointless conversations among friends.”

Bigger picture

To be crystal clear: the point here isn’t fun per se. If my “in defense of” post had instead been about soulful connection with family, or the deep richness of decades-long friendships, or the satisfaction we get from improving our minds, or on basically anything that we should be glad for in our lives, we could look at that list instead. The point is, our post-election lives will only be miserable if we let them—if we decide this outcome precludes happiness, whether or not it actually changes the basic facts of our day-to-day lives (which it mostly doesn’t and won’t). Our connection with friends and family is only jeopardized if we blather on angrily or wretchedly about politics and they disagree with us. The United States of America tomorrow will be the same one it was yesterday, with the same dry leaves, the same slanting orange afternoon sun, the same smooth, twisty roads, and the same home to return to; your cat will still nuzzle her snout into the crook of your elbow and/or your dog will still whack your leg repeatedly as he wags his tail. Certainly there will be gradual policy changes based on having one political administration in place instead of another; the winners will have impacts on the country and the world during the time voters have given them. But you don’t need to decide in advance to be miserable about it.

Stay tuned

Keep an eye on albertnet, because I promise next week I’ll return to lighthearted, non-didactic, hopefully humorous prattle instead of this tedious, serious stuff. Maybe I’ll write about A.I…

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The Pros & Cons of Co-Sleeping

vlog

I’m told by an expert blogger that most readers are scared off by large amounts of text (even if these people read thousands of words per day on Twitter). Meanwhile, I refuse to partake in illiteracy-shaming by providing only a written version of albertnet. Thus, I’m offering this post as a vlog, and as a podcast (click Play and don’t look). The full text follows the video.

Introduction

Co-sleeping is a very controversial practice: you either swear by it or utterly denounce it. The chances of constructive dialogue between people on opposing sides of this issue are negligible. Here I examine both perspectives to help you make an informed choice.

The benefits of co-sleeping

It’s pretty obvious why co-sleeping seems desirable: there’s no putting-to-bed ritual required, which simplifies the bedtime routine. Even more obviously, there’s the intimacy and bonding that are so crucial—and so sweet! “There is an instinctive desire to be close to your babyface,” says Sunita Gupta, a pediatric RN in Austin, Texas, in this article. “Working people who don’t get this closeness throughout the day often look to bedtime to achieve it.”

This is the easy side of the equation, of course. So why are so many people dead-set against this fairly intuitive practice?

The downsides of co-sleeping

Consider this scenario: you’ve fallen asleep reading in bed, and as you roll over on your side and turn out the lamp, you’re aware of this warm presence right up against your belly, all snuggled up. How wonderful! Perhaps you even sigh contentedly as you drift off to sleep … and all is well until the wee hours, perhaps 2:00 or 3:00 a.m., when you realize something is wrong. You feel this strange pricking sensation against your fingertips. Not quite awake, you move your hand—but then you feel that pricking feeling again. And again. It’s like a very faint electrical shock. And then there’s this warm breath in your face, and you realize your little darling is wide awake. And bored. And biting you.

No, she’s not trying to hurt you … just to wake you up. She seems to think it’s feeding time. And here’s where things get really messy: in the next few moments, your every move is crucial—your good night’s sleep hangs in the balance.

Perhaps your best hope is to the grab the little rascal very quickly so you can relocate her—because no way is she going back to sleep. But you’re delusional if you think this is going to be easy. After all, you’re half-asleep and she’s wide awake, not to mention possessed of lightning-fast reflexes. If that first attempt at a bear-hug fails, you won’t get a second one. And let’s face it, your chances of catching her the first time are minimal to begin with. She’s going to squirt out of your arms in a flash, like you stomped on an uncapped tube of toothpaste, and then she’s leaping from the bed and off and running.

Sure, at this point you could do nothing and just try to go back to sleep … but this is nonsense. You know she’ll be back, poking and prodding you, jumping on your stomach, and running all around the bed. There’s nothing to be done but to run after her—and good luck with that. As you chase her around the house, you’re stumbling and bumping into things, but she’s not—cats have six times better night vision than humans, and at a full sprint can reach 30 mph.

Ideally, you could chase her into another room and then leave, closing the door behind you … but how many cats would fall for that? They’re crafty little beasts—and if you’re devoted to the practice of co-sleeping, you’ve inadvertently left them all kinds of escape routes. The conventional wisdom says that if you simply feed your furry feline, she’ll be satisfied and will come back to bed. This is kind of true, in the sense that she will come back—but she’s not coming back to sleep. She’s bored. She wants to play. Cats never sleep through the night—hence the term “catnap.” Your night is ruined, unless wiggling a piece of yarn for five minutes while your cat gets ready to attack it sounds like fun. Congratulations: you’ve just learned the hard way why so many warn against co-sleeping.

A way forward?

“Okay,” you might be saying, “If co-sleeping is so fraught, do you have a better idea?!” Or maybe you’re saying, “Isn’t this the epitome of a ‘first-world problem’?” Or you’re wondering, “What is this blog and how did I get here?” Well, I’ll concede that decrying one bedtime formula without suggesting another isn’t very helpful. So I’ll do my best.

Note that the longer you’ve been co-sleeping, the harder this is going to be. I’m not saying your cat will have developed a “crutch” or anything, in terms of needing to co-sleep, because it’s established fact that cats barely need humans at all, other than as providers of food and shelter. But they do develop habits, which can make it difficult to end the co-sleeping cycle. When one night your cat finds your bedroom door closed, she’ll just sit there and meow. Don’t bother trying to outlast her—a cat cannot be Ferberized. Cats have evolved to be almost infinitely patient, because patience is useful when ambushing prey. Of course they don’t sound patient, the way they meow almost continuously—but rest assured, they can go on forever. You might as well try to outlast a dripping faucet.

But habits can be changed. Chances are, there’s a way to strand your little kitty in a part of the house where her cries can’t be heard from the bedroom. I know this sounds cruel, but bear in mind this animal would happily eat your eyeballs if you died in your home and could no longer feed her. It’s a dog-eat-dog world. (Okay, perhaps not the best metaphor.)

To be clear, sequestering your cat is probably less Machiavellian than Ferberizing a human, because unlike a human baby whose need for you is existential, and whose developing brain cannot reconcile this sense of abandonment, cats are very straightforward thinkers. For them, this is simply operant conditioning. If meowing at the kitchen door doesn’t produce results, they will eventually shrug it off, like if their cat door stopping swinging one day. It’s no more troublesome to them than it would be for you if the guest WiFi password stopped working at your favorite café, and the barista told you guest WiFi was only available on weekdays. (And good on her, frankly … but I digress.)

But what about your needs as a pet owner (or to be more “woke” about it, as the human guardian of a companion animal)? Honestly, this snuggle time probably means more to you than to your cat. Cats are loners, after all, which is why you can leave them home alone all day without them howling miserably throughout your absence like an abandoned pack animal (e.g., dog).

The solution, I think, is to get lap time with kitty during the day, perhaps after dinner (by which I mean her dinner), when you’re reading a book or watching a video. To many guardians, this seems like a recipe for rejection: here you are, reclined in your La-Z-Boy, blanket across your lap, book in your hand, clearly not going anywhere, but the cat simply doesn’t show up. Happily, this is easy to solve: just turn down your thermostat. You might be wearing the coziest cashmere sweater in the world, but if there’s deliciously warm air gushing out of a heater vent, the cat’s going to choose that every time. Get yourself a warmer throw blanket (I have a down-filled one), nix the central heat, and you should be in business.

This way, when it’s your bedtime, it’s hers too. Figure out a nice place for her to sleep—the crook of an armchair, a gap between throw pillows on a sofa, sometimes even a cardboard box, if that’s where your little darling likes to sleep—and put her there before you retire. It’s possible she will start to appreciate the ritual and won’t even jump up and try to race you to the door as you leave.

Caveat: ssshhhhh!

Whatever approach you take to co-sleeping, I highly recommend you not talk about it with anybody. And why not? Because if your interlocutor agrees with you, that’s bound to be a pretty boring conversation. And if he doesn’t—well, then you’ve got a pointless argument on your hands and all you’ll do is lose face. This is too emotionally charged an issue to discuss rationally … you might as well talk about politics or religion. This other person’s good night’s sleep is not your problem.

(Am I a hypocrite, then? No. This blog post being a one-way broadcast, I am not putting you on the spot here. Sleep with your cat, or don’t … I don’t need to hear about it. If you found this post useful, great. If you disagree with me, just close your browser, and accept my apologies for wasting your time. And if you don’t even have a cat … well, then, why are you here?!)

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