A honey bee approaches a flower as it searches for nectar in the flowerbed outside Riverside Discovery Center.

“When are we leaving?” Paul said.

“For what?” I said.

“I’m so tired of this clown show,” he said.

When we moved to Scottsbluff in 2007, it was to be a new start. There was no hope of ever owning our own home or advancing in our lives in Poughkeepsie, New York. Our arrival was a bit of a mess. The moving truck was late. All we had were a couple of changes of clothes, my desktop computer, and whatever other important things that fit in my 2000 Hyundai Accent. Paul had accepted a teaching job in Gering, just on the other side of the North Platte River from Scottsbluff. We were looking for something away from the constant movement but perpetual treadmill we had been on.

We went to the Gering Public Schools district office several times that first week for paperwork Paul needed complete. Gering is a small town of 8,500. People talk. In among the “where are you from” and “how did you get here” conversations, people learned of our dilemma. I interviewed for my job with Gering Public Schools in blue jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt. Everyone understood and didn’t hold it against me.

It wasn’t long before then Principal Eldon Hubbard and Vice Principal Dora Olivares were at our house with some basic furniture. Dora brought two plastic chairs and a table as well as a small television. Eldon brought over an air mattress so we didn’t have to sleep on the floor. I preferred the floor and appreciated the gesture. Paul had the air mattress all to himself.

The low cost of living helped us a lot. It took 10 years, but we paid off Paul’s college debt. We put a little money into an IRA account. Then, we doubled it. Now, we are at five times the amount we started with. We built a life here and most people were generally nice.

The problem with nice is that it isn’t kind. The nice started to lose its veneer with the 2008 election. I didn’t have too many issues because when people started to talk shit about “that black man in the people’s house,” I shut it down as quickly as I could. In 2016, however, people were allowed more room to speak out loud every little thought in their head and it’s only gotten worse. The words “atheist” and “liberal” no longer bring honest or fruitful debate. They bring hate and violence.

Our original intention was to eventually retire to France. Then, Brexit happened. We reevaluated and decided Scottsbluff was fine. We don’t have a lot of friends. We don’t go out much. We don’t need much.

When Paul asked “When are we leaving?” I knew what he meant. I purposely answered differently in the hopes I was wrong. We are facing the dilemma again of how much can we take. I already had to retire early to focus on my mental health. I didn’t want to have the conversation, but it was necessary given how quickly everything has fallen apart.

In four days, my brother-in-law and his daughter will be in Scottsbluff. I’m stressed out something bad will happen. I have a friend in South Korea and I know it wouldn’t be safe for his family to return. I have a friend who visits family in Honduras. I now worry they will never let her back in even though she is a citizen. We shouldn’t have to live this way. It should just be “tell me all about it” and “show me the pictures when you get back.”

I also worry about our trip to Egypt in 2027. I worry we won’t be able to go and be out tens of thousands of dollars because The Dotard will fuck it up for us.

Selfishly, I don’t need any of this shit when I’m trying to heal my trauma. It just weighs me down and makes everything more difficult. I don’t really converse with anyone when I’m outside anymore because even the weather is somehow political. I just want to buy my damned groceries and go home to build LEGOs or pet my cats, or read a book, or write something, or ponder the grammatical correctness of this sentence.

Bison at Custer State Park.

The reality of the United States today is heartbreaking. I can barely stomach the news. Each day brings a “oh what the fuck now” moment of time. The greed, selfishness, and insecurities of a few people are destroying the world while those in power gleefully count their money.

Believe me, I would like to run and leave it all behind, but where do I go? Which part of the world will be unaffected by orange hand of annihilation?

I do not have any marketable skills. It doesn’t matter that I am an award-winning journalist. It doesn’t matter that I have received accolades for what I’ve written on my blog. There are fewer journalism jobs each day and I, mentally, can’t do the grind anymore. Paul can freely go anywhere. He still has his British citizenship and has two marketable skills – high school teacher and mental health therapist – both at the master’s level.

While I could go to Britain, I likely would have issues with my medications and be assigned a doctor who may not prescribe the same medications or listen and work with me as my current doctor does. When people discuss just leaving the country, they are often healthy and have a skill. I am a drain on other countries, despite working for 42 years. They will look at me and say, “you are not a contributor and we do not want you.” It made me sad to speak these words to Paul. It’s a hard truth I’ve known for a long time. He can go. I cannot.

We also have four cats. It could is possible to take them with us, but it would be expensive. I do not want to give them up or split them up. They are part of the North family and I do not want to do something so traumatic to cats who have already been traumatized before they came to live with us.

Bison at Custer State Park.

So while leaving is an option, there is a larger part of me that simply says, “no.”

No. The state and national parks need us.

No. Wildlife needs us.

No. Minorities need us.

No. Women need us.

No. Those with disabilities need us.

No. Innocent children need us.

No. Those who identify as anything no white, heterosexual, white man need us.

No. I need to stay. People like me need me.

Truthfully, leaving isn’t an option. After talking for about 20 minutes, Paul said, “You know, there was a time when the British always said let’s stay and fight. That’s what we should do. They can fucking come and get me.” So, even though we could leave, we are going nowhere.

Big Horn Sheep at Hubbard’s Gap east of Gering, Nebraska.

We are staying to fight for what we love. Our country. Our public lands. Our fellow human beings. Ourselves. When we fight together, in whatever form that takes, we make each other, and the world, better. If we flee, we cannot try to enact change. We can only watch those who need us to be slaughtered. I want to be able to look my great-nephew in the face when I’m old and tell him I tried. I may not succeed, but I tried.

I grew up in a world where I would occasionally see tattoos on someone’s arm. I learned people should be judged by the content of their character, not by the color of their skin. I was taught evil thrives when good people refuse to stand up and do something. The spiteful, the ignorant, the pedophiles, they will always walk among us. It is our job to be good, to care, and to call our their bullshit. My mother always told me, “never start a fight, but make damned sure you finish it.”

Sunrise at Agate Fossil Beds National Monument on the morning of the total solar eclipse on August 21, 2017.

Though we feel alone right now, we are not. Some days are harder than others. Some days we must take a step back and regroup. It is all necessary for a sustained effort to resist.

If you are able to leave or have left, I wish you all the best. I don’t begrudge your decision. We each have to make our own choices for what is best for us and our loved ones. My country is broken. I cannot leave, so I will try to fix it or help build a new one. I am under no illusion that if those in power get their way, I will be removed from society, likely forcibly.

My friend, Conner, and I used to joke about being sent off to the camps. Now, we wonder if we would even be sent to the same one. He’ll probably end up in a place with conversion therapy while I’ll end up in a work camp farming because that will, somehow, cure my PTSD.

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Those words carry a deep meaning for me. It is my duty to make sure these ideals are available to all of us. If I’m going to have more trauma from this shitshow, I’d rather it be here where I make my stand against the fascists taking root at the heart what is good here.

For better or worse, we’re staying. We will fight however we can. If we go down fighting, know we didn’t betray our ideals or our fellow living beings.

If it comes to it, hopefully someone will say something kind about me at my funeral.

NOTE: For those of you who follow me on Substack, I posted this there, too. I just kind of felt like it.