“Within My Reach”

 

            Each day, I watch friends, acquaintances, and strangers tirelessly work against the administration and its goal to destroy the foundations of our federal government. I diligently read Heather Cox Richardson’s letter, listen to both Senator Bernie Sanders and Senator Elizabeth Warren every time they stand up for our rights. I hold onto our young representatives like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Jasmine Crockett who relentlessly honor their Congressional duties. I know there are concrete, real-time steps I should take to resist the devastating lies sprouting from every person within this coup.

            But . . . right now all I can handle is grief, loss, and worry within my immediate family. My brother’s dodging of a visit to his home revealed his growing inability to live alone. The coping strategies he’s used his entire life to compensate for his learning disorder has devolved into a rigid, step-by-step routine that shows his inability to problem solve unexpected situations. A light bulb going out translates into eventual darkness in every room of his home. The bolt to his toilet stripped making it wobble in place, and thus breaking the seal ring and making the room unsanitary. That same bathroom grew mildew up the shower tiles and into the old caulk. His bedroom had one wall three feet high of clean clothes needing to be hung or folded while dirty laundry took over a section of his garage. Coins cluttered every piece of furniture and sprinkled on the floors of every room. His vacuum, which he thought was broken, had something blocking the hose. An easy, quick repair by us, but something he couldn’t solve on his own. He resisted mentioning that the engine warning light had appeared on his dashboard a few days before our visit. One catalytic converter later, and an unexpected hit to our credit card, means he’s back on the road again. When only cold water came from the faucets, we added a defunct hot water heater to the repair list. He reluctantly admitted that he’s been using cold water only for a year.

            So focused on all of the things wrong, I missed the important news my brother repeated like a litany over and over again. “I called the air conditioner man and had the thermostat replaced because the house was hot. I did it on my own. I paid for it on my own, not with the emergency account.” He told me this the moment I entered his darkened home. He repeated it during dinner. His recounted it again as I tried to organize his bookkeeping for 2025.

            All I needed to do was say, “I’m so proud of you for handling a major problem on your own.” I should have hugged him tightly and thanked him for taking care of such an important problem without even contacting me. All I could see were the dozen things wrong within his home instead of the one thing he’d done alone.

            Before leaving this time, I broached for the first time the fact that he needs to sell the home he’s lived in for almost fifty years and move closer to either my sister or to me. We help him with insurance, property taxes, and repairs. That repair list grows as the house ages: new hot water heater, new roof, new bathroom tub and tile . . . That’s all I noted within our twenty-four hour visit.

            As the bigger world around me moves on a destructive path, I’m allowing myself the luxury of letting others step in with letters, phone calls, town halls and resistance. Right now, all I can care for will be the people within my reach.

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman