We packed up the Airstream and started heading toward Victorville some time after the power grid failed this morning. I’m able to write this because we picked up a generator when everyone was looting the WalMart ten minutes before the government shutdown. Ma stopped talking some time last night. She just sits there staring like she’s looking into Hell.
Preacher Jo, our transgendered Unitarian minister, met up with us when we arrived in Victorville. Preacher Jo had been wandering for 40 days after leaving Santa Barbara, where hir congregation vanished at midnight after a fiery sermon on environmental justice.
Jo took one look at Ma and I reckon xe knew the answer right away. “Son,” xe says, “Yer ma’s second chakra is misaligned because this here shutdown has disrupted the forces of social justice.”
I set a fire to fix us up a stew with some of the meat we had left from Aunt Myrtle and took to thinking. Before all this happened, I was a code inspector for the EPA, and I never gave too much thought to being furloughed, but then I thought about what our union always told us. That this was all the fault of the one percent and the Koch brothers. So I asked Preacher Jo what xe thought.
“Son, I can’t tell you what to do. Sit with me and meditate to the Greater Universal Presence.”
So we sat and meditated and waited for a sign.