The billionaires on the dais
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- January 26, 2025
- 1169
It was -2 F this morning, and my toes didn’t want to get out of bed. But my arm was asleep and tingly, like it is on some mornings, so I tiptoed out of the warm bedroom to begin the day. It was early, even before the sun came up, and I padded around the kitchen feeding the cats and preparing coffee. I could see the snow sparkle under what was left of the moonlight — cold and crisp, almost like it could cut you.
Today, no one will steal my joy. Yesterday I let myself sit with the ones who did.
I made a scrumptious meal yesterday that was straight comfort food: meatloaf (but shaped into giant meatballs), plus homemade mac and cheese. Here is where yesterday had some funny moments.
Last week when I baked some custard, I checked with a knife (as you do) to see if it was done. The knife slipped from my fingers and down into the bottom of the stove where the gas comes through. It had slid underneath a metal plate. I turned off the stove, and we decided to fish it out later when the oven was cold.
Yesterday I’d forgotten about the knife and turned on the oven to bake a chocolate cake along with the meatloaf meatballs and mac and cheese. I was happily stirring the white sauce for the mac when black smoke started pouring out the top of the oven. The forgotten knife was on fire. I yelled for George, who quickly removed the metal plate and the burning knife. Cleaning of all blackened surfaces ensued.
I thought it was funny after I was done being mad. Kind of a metaphor for the country right now — chaos and the weird resignation of more chaos to come. I enjoyed that meal like no other and ate a large piece of cake to top it off.
Someone recently reminded me that not everything is my lesson to learn. And I felt that. The Bible says “as a dog returns to its vomit, a fool repeats its folly.” Because of that, this is not my lesson to learn. I’m sitting this one out. Fool me once, fine. Fool me three times, no.
Joy is where I can find it: on the couch watching TV with George, combing through thrift store aisles, in the laughter of my grandsons or deep conversation with my kids. It’s in finding the ethereal thread of God in the blue of a January sky or the lyrics to a long-forgotten song.
If you believe God has been taken out of this country and now put back in, you’ve been looking for him in the wrong places. He doesn’t belong in the mouth of a politician and only exists there because they wanted your vote. Adulation for anyone in power demeans the God we believe is on the throne. Jesus flipped tables for far lesser things. He’s flipping tables now for the stark cognitive dissonance called “billionaires on a dais.” And I may have flipped a knife that burned inside my gas oven, but you’ll never see me repeating the same mistake twice.
Melissa Herrera is a reflective writer who captures the beauty and sorrow of change. With a career spanning 14 years as an opinion columnist and the publication of two books, she resides in Stark County with her husband and four cats. She writes to preserve memories. You can reach her at junkbabe68@gmail.com.