Being in my seventh decade, I have witnessed many heart-wrenching political events during my lifetime. I vividly remember watching these events unfold on television: President Kennedy’s motorcade and assassination in Dallas, Texas; brutal battles during the Vietnamese war; the Kent State shooting of four students by the military; civil rights activists getting beaten by police, etc. — my generation watched it all. And yes, we felt huge sadness, fear, anger, and worry.
 
I have watched the political pendulum swing far right and then far left. I watched, when I was a college student, the Roe v. Wade decision become a law — allowing for first trimester termination of pregnancy.  Back then, we were losing a statistically significant number of pregnant young women to dangerous illegal abortion. Daughters were dying. We had to find a “middle way,” an acceptable solution, a choice that does the least amount of harm to our society.
 
The pendulum has swung again,  back to the right, and that Supreme Court decision is no longer a law.
 
I’ve witnessed polluted rivers and lakes, and brown air become cleaner when folks had to choose between their family’s health and their jobs — asking for more corporate responsibility. Safer air, water, food, cars, buildings, roads — these things were accomplished. A society choosing what is a decent decision, not always a perfect decision. It’s a balancing act and a slow process. It’s important to acquire factual information and accurate data in the news (and in our minds). A free press is the basis of sound democracy.
 
I’m glad you asked in the forum what we think. Here’s my wrap up:
 
I’m hopeful that the American people will educate themselves and apply facts and thought processes to their country’s decision making. We are in the Information Age, after all. One leader, or one president, will never get it right. We must not allow one person to save us or to destroy us. There are billions of us here and we have to find solutions together that do the least amount of harm. We need to pay attention, keep learning and understanding what decisions can mean in the long run, and work together.
 
I’m hoping we will, as a nation, survive the swing in the pendulum, and find the middle way to keep democracy intact.
 
Heather B. Wood
Denver CO
 
 

We Are Still Strong, We Are Still Speaking Out, from a series of photographs of women-led demonstrations by Merry Song

 
 
 
Life is all about cycles: the excitement and turmoil of the 1940s led to the staid safety of the ‘50s, which led to the creative and revolutionary outburst of the ‘60s, and so on.
 
We are clearly going through a cycle of conservatism and overall constriction of everything (except, perhaps, the powers of the president).
 
However this cycle evolves it will lead to the next cycle, one which will likely encompass the opposite reaction of expansion. That’s what cycles are, no? The Yin to the Yang, the conservative to the liberal, the homogeneous to the heterogeneous.
 
We older women writers and artists can effect ultimate change with the works we create. As the current cycle plays out, our art will be like seeds planted in the country’s collective consciousness and ultimately help generate the next cycle.
 
Which came first, works like The Catcher in the Rye and On the Road or the psychosocial changes represented by them? Art has a powerful effect on society, though usually we don’t recognize it until we look back retrospectively. So, fellow artists, we need to keep the creativity strong and hopefully speed up the advent of the next cycle.
 
Denise Beck-Clark
Yonkers NY
 

 
 
One era ends and a new one begins. Whether we describe this time as an inflection point, the end of a pendulum swing, a change of seasons, or a fourth turning, taking the long view allows us to examine the past and look ahead. We have an opportunity to help reshape our nation and our society.
 
Individually, we can hone our gifts and strengths as we discern how to use them in ways that will help us move forward. Together, we can build bridges and make new bonds with people different from us as we focus on shared concerns and aspirations.
 
Let’s take the long view. Our history demonstrates that Americans are resilient, elders are wise, writers and artists are resourceful, and women are strong. That’s a good combination. We have faced great challenges before and triumphed; we can do it again.
 
S. G. (Sandy) Benson
Warne NC
 
 

We Are Still Strong, We Are Still Speaking Out, from a series of photographs of women-led demonstrations by Merry Song

 
 
 
Some hopes for the next four years. I hope that my grandson, who may have challenges, continues to develop, as I, a grandmother, bring him up within the family, rather than a daycare situation. I hope, together with the majority of women in America, for some limits such as a 20- week limit on the abortion of unborn children.
 
I hope that Trump keeps his promise of not taxing overtime work so that my son is able to keep more of what he earns and pay his mortgage more easily. As somebody in an income group making less than a hundred thousand a year, that $20 or $40 extra every time I go to the store matters. So I hope that my dollar will stretch further. I hope that my friend’s son will not find doctors so ready to undertake transgender surgery and puberty blocking. Research shows stunted growth and statistics, now emerging, of more cancer, more depression, and more suicide after transition. I also hope that my pediatrician daughter can feel less fearful of showing these statistics to parents who approach her for a referral to other doctors. Finally, I hope for a less fearful environment, a feminine environment, and a more rational environment.
 
Emily West
Milwaukee WI
 

 
 
 
On election day, I went to bed bereft, steeped in despair. Weeping, in fact. While I slept, all my faith in ever righting the world seeped out of me. I woke emptied of optimism, my inner Pollyanna catatonic.
 
And then, walking to work through city streets, I noted the world was still spinning in the same old way. I gave spare change to a homeless soul. He thanked me with a toothless smile, said, “God bless.”
 
An old woman, struggling to load heavy grocery bags into her car, made a grateful expression of appreciation when I helped her. “You’re an angel,” she said. She wore a MAGA hat.
 
Kindness knows no politics. People to people helpfulness is not politically motivated. I’ll just keep on being me, doing what I do within the radius of my community.
 
And then, I perked up. There is great hope for a future in a world where goodness no longer matters, a world where a convicted felon successfully lies, cheats, steals, boasts, and batters his way to leadership. The millions of people worshipping at the feet of such a man are going to need lots of help when he betrays them. There is still room for kindness.
 
Karen FitzGerald
Santa Rosa CA
 

 
 
 
I am still sorting out my options, on a restricted diet of news reports alongside copious servings of Italian murder mysteries mixed with romance. Am I navigating between Scylla and Charybdis? Where does this leave me? I am turning to love for guidance – moments of kindness given to others, which are often returned; to listening, being curious, and to devoting myself to community engagement again. I will get involved in the next election cycle here; I will not let up. While I appreciate the healing power of walks in the natural world, for me solace comes from poetry, mine and others. I don’t believe poems will change the world, but creative expression – art – is the purest form of communication I know. It does not exist in a vacuum but speaks for time, place, and history.
 
Ronnie Hess
Madison WI
 
 

We Are Still Strong, We Are Still Speaking Out, from a series of photographs of women-led demonstrations by Merry Song

 
 
 
A Plan
 
On election day, I was out of the country, in Vieux, Québécois. My husband and I had arrived the day before, on my 70th birthday, and I was cautiously optimistic that Kamala Harris would win. Surely, it was time for a female president. And, with half our country hating the other half, it was time to heal.
 
Home, I realized that, with such an uncertain future, I needed a plan:

1. Talk with others about their plans. One friend said, “With tariffs, anything made of cotton will ‘go through the roof.’ Coffee, too. Stock up and have ready cash in your house.”
2. Meet with our financial advisor and “batten down the hatches” before January 20th.
3. Get in the best shape I can, both physically and mentally. Increase my daily exercise and decrease how often I watch the. News. Be that strong woman and, with the variability in women’s health issues, book all appointment, like my mammogram.
4. Invest in my future. Hire an editor to help with my book-length manuscript. I’ve already scheduled that telephone interview for January 9th. Hopefully, armed with my memoir, I can change my part of the world.
5. Be kind.

 
Barbara A. Rouillard
Springfield MA
 

 
 
 
My hope for the coming year and the years that follow is that older women writers and artists will continue to create our powerful and necessary work. Sharing our knowledge of the poetry, prose, artwork, and music of others who created during times of restriction will help to make that possible. Finding new ways of expressing ourselves may be useful as well — heightening our ability to use metaphor, writing in response to visual art, music, and the natural world. I plan to expand the ekphrastic workshops and retreats that I teach, and to include music to invite feeling deeply and experimenting with language. And to encourage the memorization of poetry. I will use these creative processes in my own work, and hope to discover forms of expression that will make it possible to continue writing poetry and perhaps expand into new genres and mixed media. Creative community is necessary as we face the unknown as well as anticipated challenges. Keeping our imaginations open and inspiring each other will be essential.
 
Jan Freeman
Ashfield MA
 
 

We Are Still Strong, We Are Still Speaking Out, from a series of photographs of women-led demonstrations by Merry Song

 
 
 
In far west Texas, slight lines on the radio dial separate us: Christian, rap, classical, talk, oldies, country, and Tejano. Each sound, like its listener, has stood boot to boot, cowboy hat to army beret, to create a community. Football crowds, marching bands, church choirs, howling winds, and rainless thunder resonate through the timeless sand and cactus. We’re people who never thought they’d live in the desert, surrounded by billion-year-old mountains, and yet, we’ve created a home of mixed cultures. For centuries, travelers have slipped through the mountain passes or splashed across the Rio Grande to settle and find their piece of paradise.
 
Come visit El Paso. We speak many languages, foster cultural differences, embrace religious choice, and live peacefully with our neighbors spanning two countries and three states. Maybe in the next four years, the elected men and women could follow the lead of an old city carved out of an inhospitable land.
 
Perhaps those advocating for change should research representative democracy. We are a melting pot of possibility, but we must start positive change by treating women as equals, understanding the pure love of children and families leaving their homelands, and putting kindness before riches.
 
Lynda Webb
Leander TX
 

 
 
 
It’s been a month, and I am still struggling to understand the outcome of the election. I have gone through the stages of grief. Probably will again.
 
All that Donald Trump stands for goes against my belief system, my core values of treating people respectfully, equal opportunity for all, and keeping the United States a democracy.
 
We had a candidate with the expertise, education, experience, and drive to do just that. Yet, she was defeated. Operative word – she.
 
I’ve concluded her gender and her race are the reasons Kamala Harris lost.
 
Do we, as older women writers and artists, throw our hands up and resign ourselves to four years of a second Trump term in office?
 
I think not.
 
My 2025 “resolution” is twofold—to unite with others who feel as I do and get involved on a community and local level. “Indivisible”—a progressive national movement which began in 2016—has numerous ways to do this.
 
My other resolution, though, is a kinder, gentler one. I will not demonize or close the door on a long-term friendship or relation due to how we voted. Life’s too short to keep the divisiveness alive.
 
Ellen Reichman
Kirkland WA
 
 

We Are Still Strong, We Are Still Speaking Out, from a series of photographs of women-led demonstrations by Merry Song

 
 
 
I go to bed on Election Night knowing full well that no matter the outcome, there will be work to do.
 
Instead of scanning my body from head to toe, I decide to scan my heart. I bring my hand to my chest and inhale. We have recently moved back to Texas amidst incredulous inquiries from our liberal friends. I think about our conservative son who prompted our return by inviting us back after he bought a house.
 
I exhale audibly and recall the early days of my involvement with the sanctuary movement here in town. I remember my uncertainty about what to say when I had to sit next to the immigrant at that first meeting.
 
I reach for my kefiyah on the bedpost and stretch it out over my head. I think of the allies who have been waving flags and holding signs every week over the city’s busiest highway.
 
A coyote howls in the distance. I am envious of the quiet stealth, and I wonder how I too can camouflage myself into my surroundings.
 
The night finally passes. I blink open my eyes with clear understanding of why I moved back: Activists are never lost in Texas.
 
Claire Reutter
Austin TX
 

 
 
Since November 5, many of my women friends have cried, pulled in, or disengaged from politics. I understand those feelings. On election night, at roughly 3 am, I went to bed, pulled the covers over my head (something I never do), and wanted to stay under them forever. But instead I got up, took the day off to feel numb—and then returned to looking forward. Because that’s what we all need to do: look ahead. In the next two years, after drastic cuts to Medicare, Social Security, health insurance, etc., the mood of the country will change. As the 2026 election approaches, we can help change the configuration of Congress. So let’s look ahead, pull together, see which seats are up for grabs, give what we can to candidates likely to flip seats, and, if retired, volunteer at women’s health clinics and other places helping women. Let’s stand together as women, protecting women, protecting health, even as everything appears to be disintegrating around us. Let’s apply our words, our art, our minds to the future. Let’s really expand our idea of who our audience is, spread our wings and vision wide. Let’s show the world—and ourselves—our strength.
 
Natalie Reid
Albuquerque NM
 
 

We Are Still Strong, We Are Still Speaking Out, from a series of photographs of women-led demonstrations by Merry Song

 
 
 
My hope is that President-elect Trump, now in the most powerful position in the world, will appreciate the fact that he has achieved his desired goal. He has proven that a majority of Americans have put their trust in him. Now it is my hope that everyone accepts the election results and are open to talking about both their expectations and disappointments. To having honest talks about our country and how to make it the America of our dreams. President-elect Trump owes us his best as he promised, and we owe him our best wishes for his success no matter how we voted.
 
Gayle Ann Weinstein
Wilmette IL
 

 
 
As I ponder what life will be like with a new administration, I think about my beloved grandchildren, all of them teenagers or young adults.  The two who live in the U.S. will have more changes to contend with than I will, and the four who live in Israel, already dealing with life in a war-torn country, may have an even tougher road.   At eighty-one years old I will continue to create joyful memories with them: baking together on Zoom, talking on Whatsapp, sending hearts with every text and email, always telling them “I love you more than…” When I am gone, I want them to remember, no matter what perils they face, that their grandmother played with, laughed with, and loved them more than she can express in words.  May these memories sustain them and help them smile.  May they live to see a more peaceful world than we have today.  Even though I may not live to experience it, I hold onto hopes for a better future, not only for my grandchildren, but for all the world.
 
Gail Arnoff
Shaker Heights OH
 
 

We Are Still Strong, We Are Still Speaking Out, from a series of photographs of women-led demonstrations by Merry Song

 
 
 
In 1978, two of my friends and I played on a glacier.  In July.
 
My grandchildren might never see a glacier.
 
Yet there is hope in the amount of renewable energy being produced. California is close to producing all its energy needs via carbon-neutral sources. Maine aimed to get 100,000 homes converted to heat pumps by 2025 and beat that goal by almost two years. We can get there from here.
 
We who have lived in the beauty of this world can teach a reverence for the planet. As artists and writers, we can touch hearts and minds in unique ways. As elders, we understand ways to correct the mistakes of those who are greedy or short-sighted. To eliminate the fossil fuels that are destroying our lungs, our homes and our glaciers, we must become the new Abolitionists.
 
A new Abolitionist Movement can gather collective voices. It can tap into personal networks that are decades in the making. It can use the power of information to boycott those who continue to abuse the planet. Collectively, we can make the changes for ourselves and our grandchildren.
 
I still hope to take my grandkids to play on a glacier.
 
Jude Ellis
Stroudsburg PA
 

 
 
 
After the [early December] tsunami warning along the Pacific Coast, a warning that was soon canceled, I began to think differently about the next four years. Rather than being subsumed by dread and hopelessness, I will try to surf a tsunami of hope. I will set my intentions every day: intentions to be patient, to persist in doing what I can to change my part of the world, to persevere in the face of despair. I pledge to support young people, especially young women, who I am counting on for their courage and commitment to the future. As the brilliant poet Nikki Giovanni says, “let me be part of the change.”
 
Angie Minkin
San Francisco CA

 

 
 
 

Call Me Carmela

by Ellen Kirschman

Police psychologist Dot Meyerhoff’s caseload is usually filled with cops—which is why she’s hesitant to help an adopted teenager locate her birth parents. But the teen’s godmother is Dot’s dear friend Fran and a police widow to boot. How could Dot possibly say no? Once Dot starts digging into the case, though, she’s drawn into a murky world of illegal adoptions and the choices a young pregnant woman might make as a last resort. Soon there’s only one thing Dot knows for sure: the painful truth of what happened all those years ago might heal one family—but it’s certain to destroy another. Ellen Kirschman is an award-winning police and public safety psychologist who finds writing fiction to be therapeutic because she gets to take potshots at nasty cops, incompetent psychologists, and two ex-husbands. Sign up for her newsletter at www.ellenkirschman.com. “Call Me Carmela is like the perfect morning coffee, rich, smooth, and nuanced and leaving you craving another cup.” — Naomi Hirahara, USA Today bestselling author “A stunning mystery novel” — Foreword reviews “Compelling, surprising, and a little bit heartbreaking” — Samantha Downing, award-winning author of My Lovely Wife Available from Amazon and Bookshop.

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