The Daily WORD is QUALTAGH
The first person you meet after leaving your house on some special occasion
…or as I am spinning it, any occasion
They litter my door with colored flyers; they stuff my mailbox with pleas; they stand on my porch, overtly well groomed with perky, practiced smiles, earnestly pushing the broken doorbell; they bleat from CNN; they spam me relentlessly. (Spam means “spare parts and minds” in my lexicon for I have never seen a whole thought expressed in a single unwanted email.)
They covet my vote and my soul. Yes, the world is ending next week and I know where I am going: to the grocery and maybe to Kohls for some new socks. Yes, the election is soon and I am cognizant of the issues: too much crap in my mailbox, too much littering on my lawn, too much paper under my windshield wipers, too much bleating in sound bytes.
You cannot fix a broken society or a broken world. You are either optimistic or a fraud. Or, you are an optimistic fraud.
I want the first person I meet (in person or on paper) to be in the spirit of Julian of Norwich who has been saying since the 14th C “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well,” and was plagiarized by T.S. Elliot in the 20th C (so I must give credit to both). Julian won’t pester me with “Are you SAVED?” and won’t lobby for my vote as the saint of the millennium. She simply assures with serenity. No need to shout about it, buy an ad, print 5 million flyers, spam me, speechify, or ring my dead doorbell.
I am leaving the house in a minute on a special occasion — I must have a Panera turkey and artichoke panini because it is Tuesday and I am hungry. The qualtagh will say “for here or to go?”
And we shall share an enigmatic smile.
(As for my doorbell, I silenced it ten years ago for a reason. Family members have keys and friends know to knock.)