“The White House Psychopath”

Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies spew and churn

Havoc and mayhem fester and grow

Impulsivity and egocentricity impede and destroy

Manipulation and dysfunction muddle and disorganize

Irresponsibility and rage mock and punish

Callousness and cruelty injure and kill

 

Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Abortion”

            The existence of legal abortion drives many American citizens into an emotional, and illogical, frenzy that’s spun our country out of control. This one issue on protecting innocent, unborn babies drives voters to select men and women for governmental positions based on the litmus test on abolishing Roe v. Wade. The manipulation of voters on this one issue has deposited us into the mire we face today.

            Potential. That’s the word that gets thrown around a lot by people wanting to change abortion laws. They rant and rail that the potential of a fetus is sacred. They insist that no one has the right to murder that potential.

            As a teacher, I experienced with several students their turmoil and resolution of unplanned pregnancies. One parent confided that her twelve-year-old daughter fell madly in love with the fifteen-year-old boy across the street. The girl didn’t even know what she did to get pregnant. Her mother and father, along with the advice of their family doctor, opted for a safe and legal abortion because their living, breathing, vibrant daughter’s potential was more important.

            Although some anti-choice groups allow for incest and rape, others don’t even want to provide that choice to victims. The freshman girl I had whose sexual abuse by her father and brother had her own potential. Would forcing her to bring to term a baby do more or less harm to her than allowing her choice to terminate the pregnancy? Her pregnancy revealed her situation and removed her from a nightmare. The abortion gave her a chance of a better future. Taken away from her family, coupled with extensive counseling, her potential amplified.

            The women I’ve know who sought safe and legal abortions had various reasons for their choices. These well-educated women had their own potentials to reach. One woman and her husband couldn’t afford a fourth child. When their birth control failed, they determined the financial burden would undermine the future of their other children. They weighed their decision carefully and used a safe and legal option to protect the potential of their family. One woman, a medical professional, had her birth control fail. I remember thinking, “If it can happen to her, it can happen to anyone.” She deliberated her career, the relationships the unplanned pregnancy would impact, and decided that the potential of all of the adult lives involved outweighed the possibilities of a child she knew she didn’t want and feared she could never love.

            These girls and women all had choices under our legal system. This is personal. This is a basic right that each of the women needed at a pivotal point in her life. None of them made their decisions without deliberation. All of them weighed their own aspirations and sought out their own potentials to make the best futures for themselves.

 

Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

My novel, The Golden Bracelet, deals with the ramifications of a pregnancy on young, vibrant Ginny after she's raped Feel free to follow the link below to follow her journey.

https://www.amazon.com/Golden-Bracelet-Elizabeth-Abrams-Chapman-ebook/dp/B076JR8N26/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=The+Golden+Bracelet+novel&qid=1586104179&sr=8-1

 

“A Sense of Humor”

            A few days ago, I sniped at my husband over something truly trivial. David clings to two ancient tower Macs. When we ripped out the bedroom carpet and laid new tile, I suggested he donate them someplace. Last year, we purchased matching desks for each of our workstations. Although I suggested he ditch them then, he has them collecting dust on each side of the desk’s lower platform. Last week, David’s company announced they want his department to become permanent remote workers. My nagging about the computers snapped out as we discussed how to fit another system in his space. Almost immediately, I flagged my overreaction. Although we’ve crammed our desks into our master bedroom, the way David organizes his work area really doesn’t impact me.

                Later in the day, I apologized for snapping at him.

                He’d forgotten the entire incident. 

            In forty-one years of marriage, we’ve hurled out our frustration and anger in various arguments. In our early years, we flared over lack of money and feeling overworked and underappreciated. My narcissistic in-laws pulled me into and out of their dysfunctional dance so many times that after visits with them I either vomited or escalated into justifiable (to me) rages that took all night for recovery. Once I gave myself permission to walk away from them, my temper flashes sparked over the smaller trials and tribulations that life hands us. David’s easy going nature means he has a longer simmer time before he even heated. I can count on my hand how many times he’s actually reached boiling point in the years we’ve been together. He has a tremendously forgiving nature, always sees the best in other people’s intentions, and can forget transgressions almost as soon as they’ve happened. 

            The pandemic means we’ve spend a shitload of time together. While other friends complain about feeling trapped with their spouses since March, we’ve found a satisfying rhythm to our days. David logs into work by 8:00. I head outside to hand water the yards and garden. Around 9:30, I start my designated daily chore, log blogging time, and we both finish up around noon to break for lunch. During the afternoons, I play computer games, do a limited social media exposure, and then read for a few hours. Sometimes I binge watch on a show that I know David won’t like (lately it’s been Cold Squad a Canadian TV show from the late 90s). Most days, I cook dinner, but not always. I do another run on Facebook while cooking. 

            During that time, I skim over my feed looking for something funny to give me a giggle. Every day, I’ll snigger over some YouTube video, meme, or well written quip and hit the SHARE option to tag to David. Then I realize that the chuckle originated from David’s page! This happens multiple times daily and has been our pattern for the last six months. During the evenings, we indulge ourselves on shows like Schitt’s Creek or our favorite late night comedy. 

            I want to step away from sniping and move into snickering. Arming myself with a sense of humor may be the best way to survive these next few months. 

Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“The Silver Lining”

 
 
            My husband’s company informed him last week that his department will work remotely permanently. My resounding “Whoop!” shook the windows. We definitely celebrated this news.

            David worked for fourteen years from the home as a freelance illustrator. During those years, we loved that our son always came home to a parent in the house. When we decided to homeschool, my son and I designed his coursework, but David daily donned the role of teacher. Working from home meant we could back-burn our oldest car and keep it going for twenty years. It meant I came home to less housework and cooking because David could wash a load of clothes or run the vacuum when he took a break. During my breaks from teaching, we slowed the pace of our days—no alarm clocks all summer long! 

            The disadvantage for this type of work, of course, is that it’s a feast-or-famine financial forage. Income fluctuated dramatically from month to month and contract to contract. There are no benefits like medical coverage unless you pay out-of-pocket. No paid vacations. If David didn’t work, he didn’t earn. His parents would get upset when we couldn’t join the family on one of their various vacations. They didn’t understand that to go on a trip for a couple of weeks meant we’d have to have the money saved for both the cost of the vacation plus two weeks’ pay! Because he never knew when the next round of work would surface, we tried to live as much as possible within my Texas teacher’s low salary.
            With David’s current situation, we have the security of a regular salary and benefits coupled with the easier, slower pace that comes from working from home. David’s six-year-old car’s 75,000 odometer reading no longer worries me. The week before last, my mind ran through the scenario that we’d need to replace it long before my 2005 RX8 since David puts more than 1,400 miles a month on it. Now we’ll use it for errands all within ten miles from the house. I’m already only driving the Mazda weekly for a twenty minute spin to keep it running since I no longer need it for the part-time job I worked before COVID-19.

            We still start our mornings with an alarm clock, only it’s set at 7:15 instead of 5:15! David grabs a bowl of cereal and sets up his laptop for the day instead of rushing out the door for bumper-to-bumper traffic going across San Antonio. His department took walking breaks twice a day. Now that I can walk again, we’ll do the same breaks together. We lunch together, too.  David eats during one episode of House Hunters-International, and we admire the adventuresome spirit of the people highlighted.
            In all of the financial losses, illnesses and deaths caused by a pandemic, we’ve found our silver lining.

Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman