2020 Poem by Curtis Johnson

At first it wasn't my father's Oldsmobile.
Then, there came a longing for a new identity
With an invasion of one morphing after another.
Next thing I knew, there was no Oldsmobile.
So many things it seems started to go away and
went astray that never did come back on another day.
Back then I heard a great American say, 'If you can find
a better deal, take it. If you can find a better car, buy it'.*
January rather quickly gave me a very bad cold, but
As I recall, it's usually February when I get the bug.
This time February also gave me broken down mini van
With a transmission too costly to fix; so I got rid of it.
I can't complain because February also gave me a good car.
I keep thinking about Dicken's 'best of times; worst of times'.**
March forced me into the dentist's office for some teeth work, and by the time April showed up, I literally felt like being in a twilight zone. May arrived with a check in hand from the U.S. Government to help stimulate the economy that was dying from an invasion of COVID 19.
I keep thinking about Dicken's 'best of times; worst of times'.
June was more bad news along with egregious behavior which gave birth to even more bad behavior, and the cities went up in smoke and riots. By July, the Western Region was on fire; the soot and smoke darkened the sky, and by August, we were wrapped up, tangled up, worn out, and hoping for relief. Instead, we continued to get more of the same in addition to political pains, campaign promises, and lots of hurricanes that came and came like dominoes. So many things and people were dying, but faith, hope, and love simply refused die. I keep thinking about Dicken's 'best of times; worst of times'.
September's gift of Autumn has no rival of beauty in the eyes of this beholder, but I began to feel some unfriendly winds blowing over my shoulders that stirred up more and more fires. By the time October rolled into town, our land was also filled and divisive and heated debates. Although heaven was not asleep but wide awake, I often wondered and prayed for a little break. In 70 years, I had seen, experienced, and endured a lot, but now I was seeing more of the deep rot. All of my life, I heard talk of the great melting pot of people coming together and making America one great nation. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly, I always believed it to be true, but it was
beginning to feel like civility and common sense had taken the hiatus of a life time, and far too many Americans were being caught up in lies, swept away into more lies, swallowed up in even more lies, and longing to change from sea to shinning sea The Great Republic between two oceans
Into 'who knows what'. Nevertheless, I felt that the church around the world was still standing strong as she reached out in love. Did not Jesus say that the gates of hell would not prevail? I keep thinking about Dicken's 'best of times; worst of times'.

November gave us all the opportunity to vote, and so we did in historic numbers, to settle the great battle of the greatest republic ever known on planet earth. However, unlike Mr. Frost's poem, 'The Road Not Taken', our vote has not presently shown us a path that 'has made all the
difference', but rather we now stand at the crossroads of awe and confusion. I could never erase from my brains a poster I saw in a news clip. The poster read, 'Don't vote; have a revolution'. I cried inside. December came With a mass state of reaction. As the reports were unfolded to us, the seeds of 'social non-distancing' that were planted in November (the heart longing of families to gather to
love and share) gave birth to mass waves of more virus cases. Grinch, that old killer of merriness, in all likelihood, was having a field day; but by Christmas he was steaming, and God-fearing people were still dreaming. And the worship of The Christ was neither cancelled nor subdued.

122820PS*Lee Iacocco. **Tale Of Two Cities', Charles Dicken