Caution: Emily Dickinson allusion ahead!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
by: Billy Collins
Trouble
was not
his middle name.
If you haven't noticed, I dislike people who take themselves too seriously. Perhaps that's why Billy Collins' poems appeal to me so much. He doesn't mind having fun. Popping inflated egos. Seeing the ridiculous and the sublime.
Today was International Women's Day. I've been around strong women my whole life. My mother and sisters. My beautiful wife and daughter. Mentors and best friends. The man sitting here tonight typing this post is a product of the women he's had the privilege to know and love.
One of the greatest lessons I've learned from these wonderful women is humor. Women have to have senses of humor to deal with all the stupid shit men have done and do in this world. Think about it. The Cold War. Healthcare. World Hunger. Climate change. All the result of male ego, ignorance, and hostility.
If women had been in charge, the Cuban Missile Crisis could have been solved over a couple Bloody Marys. Universal health care in the United States? No problem for a government run by Mother Teresa. Put Greta Thunberg in charge of combatting climate change. Julia Child could have ended world hunger decades ago. And my mom could have stopped all of the insurrectionists on January 6 by just standing on the steps of the Capital with one of her wooden spoons.
The world would be a much happier place if women were in charge. There would be a lot more laughter and compassion, and a lot less name-calling and stick throwing. I believe this to the marrow of my bones. (Of course, there are some exceptions--Marjorie Taylor Greene and Lauren Boebert come to mind. And, let's be honest, Lindsey Graham.)
So, for all the joy and love and support that the women in his life have given him, Saint Marty salutes you.
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