Fans of Alternity

This is raw. You'll just have to deal with it, as we are living in extraordinary times here.

My brother came out to Minneapolis this past week from his home just outside New York City, as he does every couple months or so to see my 97-year old mother. The two of us went out for breakfast on Saturday morning. He asked me what it has been like.

I told him.

The two things I think that have shocked my naive white lady ass the most, I told him, is that we are under attack from our own federal government.

And that they are LYING so shamelessly and contemptuously about everything going on.

You think I would know better by now. I remember how everyone on the staff for my employer (the Minneapolis Area Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America) gathered in 2016 to listen to the verdict for the trial of the killing of Philandro Castile on the radio, and how shocked I was that Yanez was acquitted. And how even more shocked I felt when my Black co-worker said, "I'm not surprised in the least."

And in the years that followed, I started to better understand what she meant. When George Floyd was killed, I saw that cops lie about everything. I dove even harder into doing the work of deconstructing my own inner racism, which I had already started under the direction of my employer. I started to get a glimmer of what it might be like, from listening to black activists in that aftermath, to live in a society where the government is absolutely not here to help or support you. They are here to attack and oppress you, and they will cut you down if you stand in their way.

But it is only the past couple of months that I have started to experience what it is like when the government's malevolence is turned on people exactly like me personally.

ICE vehicles race up and down the streets in my neighborhood, blowing through stop signs and red lights. Helicopters and drones hover in the sky over me. There are smashed cars all around me. And there are signs tacked on trees and fences reading, "Our neighbor was kidnapped here." One of those sites is a mere block away from me. Businesses I've frequented and loved for years are closing, unable to stay open in the face of the government's determination to kidnap their employees and ruin them.

When I went home after that breakfast with my brother, I learned of the death of Alex Pretti. I went by the corner where he was killed every time I went to work, just as I went by the place where Renee Good was killed.

That night, answering the call that went out on social media, my neighbors and I gathered on corners throughout South Minneapolis, carrying candles. I was a little late to join, as I was driving home, and I passed corner after corner where people were gathering. It was honestly so incredibly moving to see all those lights in the darkness held by people mourning and bearing witness. Hundreds of them.

I brought the candle that was lit at Rob's funeral. This was on Saturday, January 24. The eighth anniversary of Rob's death was on Monday, January 26.

God, I wish he were here with me, that I didn't have to go through this living alone.

I'm doing what I can. I won't say what specifically because we are at that point where we have to keep even constitutionally protected actions hidden from the government.

Sometimes I think that the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that the government (my own government) wants me to feel powerless and helpless and afraid. So I'm not going to be out of sheer spite.

My card this week is just one image, because sometimes one image says it all.

A woman bundled up in a winter coat stands on a street corner at night, holding a candle in a glass chimney.

Mourning



Click on the links to see the 2026, 2025, 2024, 2023, 2022 and 2021 52 Card Project galleries.

This is a difficult post. But then, these are difficult times.

This past Monday was the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday, which seemed like propitious timing, considering the events of the past few weeks.

At church, our pastor gave a sermon about the principles of nonviolence as outlined by King, illustrated by hand-lettered posters, which were placed around the sanctuary. As the words went up and the congregation absorbed them, I felt myself stiffening a little. The pastor acknowledged this, saying that when several of her family members helped make the posters, one remarked, "Wow, you're really reaching here for perfection, aren't you?"

We stared at all of the posters, and I think particularly at the one that read, "My opponent is not evil."

Evil, I read this week, is the absence of empathy. ICE agents have made it clear this week that they are devoid of empathy. In fact, they seem to glory in their capacity for cruelty, to be eager to rub our noses in it. Look at what we can do to you all their actions seem to say, and you can do nothing to stop it.

They drag people from their homes and from their cars, including both immigrants who are following all the rules and have permission to be here, as well as citizens. They spray tear gas and other chemical irritants on crowds. They scream profanity and contempt at us. And so much more.

The difficulty of the principles of nonviolence is to commit to bear the consequences, no matter what. When you give yourself over to it, the resulting scenes of violence wreaked upon those not resisting shock the conscience of the world. Sometimes that is the only way that can change begin.

Like the protesters who allowed themselves to be beaten on the Edmund Pettus Bridge, the people of Minneapolis and St. Paul are standing up to whatever is thrown at them to say, "No more." And believe me, what is being thrown at us is really terrible.

This past weekend, I went to the Powderhorn Park Art Sled rally. I have lived in this neighborhood for over thirty years, but this was the first time I heard about this event. It was very well attended, as if everyone in the surrounding neighborhood decided, "The hell with it. Let's show the government that they can't destroy our community." Many of the slides had anti-ICE themes, and some were incredibly elaborate.

But the one I liked best of all was one of the simplest ones: A man throwing himself down on his belly and rocketing down the icy hill with a bright blue kite bobbing over his head that read "Be Good."

Image description: Light blue background. Text reads in posterboard lettering: 'My opponent is not evil' 'Friendship not Humiliation' 'Love is the Center' Nonviolence is Strength' 'Bear the Pain' 'God is on the side of Justice.' Center: a man lies outstretched on a sled. Above it bobs a blue kite with the words 'Be Good'

Nonviolence



Click on the links to see the 2026, 2025, 2024, 2023, 2022 and 2021 52 Card Project galleries.

I spent over an hour working on this collage without being able to quite pin down the name for it. Initially, I titled it 'Imbalance,' but that word didn't quite capture the ominousness of what I was trying to convey. Eventually, I decided upon 'Upheaval.'

I remarked to someone this week that I didn't envision the beginning of my retirement being quite like this.

Besides all the uncertainty over the usual issues at this time of life like 'what do I do with my time?' and 'what is my new budget going to be like?' there are other questions, like 'will my next door neighbor be arrested?' and 'is this neighborhood business open, or have all their employees been kidnapped?' and 'what are the chances that my car is going to get rammed by ICE?'

I'm not going to go into great depth about all the news events that this collage is reflecting. If you are not aware, the Twin Cities are under siege by the federal government. Constitutional rights are being absolutely ignored. Rather, the ICE agents cruising around the city are making a huge show of deliberately and flagrantly violating constitutional rights, apparently just to demonstrate that they can.

There are rumors flying around the city, and everyone is angry, stressed, and yes, afraid. Yet the city is pulling together, with people joining Signal groups to protect their neighbors, setting up patrols to guard schools, churches, and day care centers, and donating money and supplies to support immigrants in hiding from ICE. All these actions are like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm.

A stormy sea with a lighthouse, partially obscured by fog. A woman stands unsteadily on top of the waves, in three overlapping poses, arms flailing as if struggling for balance. A giant, ominous-looking kraken lurks partially below the surface of the waves, brandishing its tentacles threateningly, center right.

Upheaval



Click on the links to see the 2026, 2025, 2024, 2023, 2022 and 2021 52 Card Project galleries.