Healing an ailing wrist

The other day I noticed my wrist was hurting. I first thought it was the inevitable arthritis that comes with old age. Then I remembered that Goldie, my six-year-old Catahoula mix puppy, was the reason for my ailing wrist.

My dog is strong, and when she sees a rabbit or squirrel she wants to chase, she forgets I’m on the other end of the leash and takes me wherever she wants to go. Thus, I often end up with a sore wrist.

Our country, of course, has much more than an ailing wrist because of the recent Presidential election. Even though we elected a man who talked about healing the soul of the nation as much as he did about the differences he had with the current White House occupant, it does not mean that healing will come about automatically.

Trying to convince Goldie to go the way I want her to is made less difficult by the leash attached to her collar. She does not make it easy for me, which is why I will always have a sore wrist. By my constant cajoling and tugging I can convince her that my way is the right way.

There is no place in a democracy for such strong-armed tactics, though many have tried. If we, as a country, go anywhere, we need to go together. Eventually.

Throughout this messy election I kept saying, we are among the oldest and strongest democracies on the planet, and we couldn’t have pulled off a smoother, less time-consuming election than this? All my wife, Janie, had to say was, “hanging chad.” She was, of course, referring to the 2000 election which hung on how one interprets ballots only partially punched, producing “hanging chads.”

It is my hope that Trump will soon admit defeat, forgo the court challenges, and welcome the Bidens and Harrises into the White House as Obama did for him.

And I may need to find some Epsom salts and warm water to soak my aching wrist.

Mark W Stoub is an award-winning author of the upcoming memoir “A Vagabond Pastor: Lost and Learning to Love it.”


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