View from A Bridge
I can only guess at the secrets hidden behind the doors.

When the weather is good, I take long walks through my neighborhood, passing door after door, each one different. I often wonder what life is like behind them. What are the people inside thinking? How are they coping in a country fractured by social and political discord? These musings bring to mind Anatole France’s words: “Even a little dog is the center of his own universe.” Each person in each house lives in a private world of their own making. Lately, I’ve become curious about my neighbor’s state of mind now that the pandemic has subsided

One afternoon, I knocked on the door of an elderly woman. She told me she struggled to stay balanced on the emotional seesaw created by the daily news. She missed seeing her family and scolded herself for once believing the world was on a path toward peace. “I really thought the United Nations would help solve global problems through dialogue instead of war,” she said, her voice breaking with grief. I felt her pain as she choked back a cry.

A few houses down, I passed a mother of young children leaning against her doorjamb. During the pandemic, she had grown used to working from home. Now, back in the office, she struggles to juggle childcare, doctor visits, soccer games, and gymnastics. It’s remarkable she manages to keep her job while raising a family. Evenings bring more stress; housework and dinner leave her drained. She confessed that she wishes for a hybrid arrangement that would let her work from home a few days a week. She gave me a sheepish look as she admitted, “I hate myself for letting the kids spend so much time on their phones, but it’s the only way I can get a break and cook dinner in peace.”

Behind another door lives a furloughed father who lost his job with NOAA during Musk’s downsizing efforts. Oregon’s four National Weather Service offices saw staff cuts of 25% to 60% affecting meteorologists, hydrologists, and technicians.

This man fears for his own future, wondering if he’ll ever find another job as a meteorologist. He also expressed concern for the integrity of climate reporting, with global warming seemingly struck from the weather forecast vocabulary. He spends his days watching endless newscasts and sleeping twelve hours a day. His depression is severe. Though he jogs daily, he avoids his friends and won’t consider reaching out for professional help.

A few blocks away, I passed the home of a couple who married just before the last election. They’ve postponed having children, unwilling to bring a baby into such uncertain times. The husband, a doctor in the Oregon National Guard, fears he might be deployed if conflict arises. He dreads the thought of harming innocent people or witnessing their suffering. Their long-anticipated trip to Arches National Park is also in doubt due to budget cuts to the country’s Monuments and Parks and fears of overcrowding. For now, the future, including whether to have children, remains unspoken.

Then there’s the family that calls me “Grandma.” I’ve known them for seven years-an African-American couple with two children, ages ten and fourteen. I helped the father earn his commercial driver’s license, enabling him to become a truck driver and support his family, and I take the children on outings as I did with my grandchildren.They immigrated to escape violence, became citizens, and have a deep love for this country. But today’s headlines unsettle them, reminding them of the instability they left behind.

Down the street from my house is a door I pass often. It opens to the home of a doctor whose hours have increased due to ongoing budget cuts.Oregon’s public health system is overwhelmed, understaffed, and struggling with burnout and a lack of resources. The result? Longer wait times and reduced access to care. He worries now not just for his patients, but for his own mental and physical health. His latest fear, though, is changes to Medicaid. That may have an opposite effect on his work life, causing him to lose his job due to patients losing their insurance. He finds it difficult to plan for the future.

My own door opens to a universe that, in many ways, remains unchanged from before the pandemic and the shift in administration. I still exercise daily, write, read, paint, and serve as a lay minister with the Unitarian Church. Ray and I continue to talk, argue, make up, and, above all, remain grateful for each other.

 Welcome Home

These days, I’m more mindful, more deliberate in how I drive and how I interact with people on the street. I’m encouraged by the peaceful protests and inspired by young people who are stepping up to demand change in a country that too often burdens the poor. In this charged and energized atmosphere, I feel a deep sense of hope. Our youth, with their fresh eyes and open hearts, are embracing diversity and envisioning new possibilities. Through their determination, I believe the world truly can be transformed for the better.

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I look forward to your comments. Do your neighbors share their concerns? Comment on my blog site. https://www.eichingerfineart.com/blog/201573/private-worlds-shared-worries

Art is always for sale. View from the Bridge is a 32″ by 22″ multimedia 3D sculpted painting available for sale on my website for $795, which includes shipping. Questions? Contact me at  Marilynne@eichingerfineart.com. To purchase online, go to https://www.eichingerfineart.com/workszoom/1534176/view-from-a-bridge#/

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