Thursday, November 7, 2024

     Late afternoon the sun shines through the branches reflecting the glimmering strings of cobwebs. The wind slowly moves through the trees. Smashed acorns are on the streets.  Still, it is not cold in the afternoon.

     This week I receive an official letter from the state tax authority about my tax returns.  The letter is not signed by anyone. Who wrote this letter? Who made the decisions announced in this letter? The letter doesn’t write it self, does it? Shouldn’t the government employee be named? There is no one to talk to concerning this letter. Maybe this is all run by AI computers. All government letters should be signed by a real person rather then just anonymously appear in my mail box. I have a similar anonymous message from an unnamed person changing a medical appointment.

     I wonder if my anger arises to shield myself from grief. It is so easy to find fault and be angry. I worry about what is going to happen to us with the new president. Maybe people who write to me are afraid of being attacked. I just don’t know. I don’t like these anonymous fearful times.

     I watch MARTHA for the second time with a friend. Her experiences seem so accurate.  We are the same age and lived through the same political and cultural worlds. She is both charming and difficult in this documentary film. I am both charming and difficult.