Blog #67. The Reckoning of Nines

Last week, just as she turned 249, I felt like America died. Birthdays with nine in them tend to make us question things. Whether it’s 249, or 59, or 69, they hint at an ending, whispering, Are you really who and what you say you are?

Down, but not out.

And the US? Whatever was left of her promise—life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—felt gutted, reserved now only for the mega-rich elites who bought members-only permanent seats at the table.

As someone who spent over two decades delivering USAID-funded programs on democracy and governance around the world, this is a gut punch—a betrayal. I binge-watched podcasts, hoping against hope that the obvious maliciousness of the bill would turn the tide. But it did not.

Just like on election night, I felt the dullness, the anger, and the rage, like riding a wave of impotence. I know I wasn’t alone. Tens of thousands sat out this year’s Fourth of July. Others took to the streets, raising their voices against the meanness of this US.

We’ve been here before. Some of us never left. People of color, Native communities, immigrants, and the poor have always known that the promise of America didn’t necessarily include them.

Just ask Langston Hughes:

“O, yes, I say it plain: America never was America to me. And yet I swear this oath—America will be!”(Let America Be America Again, 1935)

So yes, we mourn what we’ve lost. And maybe—finally—we grieve what we never really had, veiled as we were in privilege.

Mourn, yes. Wallow, hell no. Take time to rage. To cry. To go quiet. But don’t look away. If you see an opportunity—no matter how small—use it to model what a better U.S. looks like.

As an elder woman, I’ve seen loss, regression, and worse. You probably have too. Still, we buy groceries. We check on friends. We show up for our communities. And yes, we vote. Let’s metabolize the poison of rage and impotence through action.

We rise by remembering our agency; by tending to the next generation; by organizing, storytelling, and building scaffolding where the old beams have splintered. Not in grand gestures, but in consistent acts—of integrity, of vision, of showing up.

That showing up might be for yourself—to realign with your values and your voice. It might mean joining a circle, a march, a movement. In June, I flew north to join my 89-year-old mother in the No Kings march. Generations gathered to proclaim our personal and collective vision of a more just U.S.

Turns out, when a birthday ends in 9, you get to choose what comes next. Ready to rise in your own third chapter?

• Rebel Aging: Wisdom, Wonder, and a Few Shenanigans drops Bastille Day. Viva la Revolution.

• Want to join the collective uprising? Check out Indivisible.org’s One Million Rising.

• Craving conversation and community? Find us at WonderCrone.com. We’re creating the future we want to inhabit together.