We are living in interesting times

I knew from the jump this year was going to be a rocket ride. Election years are always by nature unpredictable, and, in our new America, volatile, so I greeted 2024 with uneasiness. It's easy, in the nature of my job, to be swamped by the deluge of political fighting in an election year. Possibly even more so in a state like ours. Ohio is so lopsidedly gerrymandered as to give one party a supermajority in both chambers of the Statehouse, and is such a hot-button state for the upcoming presidential election that one of our senators is widely rumored to be a leading contender for a vice president slot. But here we are, barely over the halfway mark into this pinnacle year and already I'm fighting the urge to hide out under the covers some days. I know it behooves me to talk to you about the timely and relevant news stories of the week in this space, but while I watched a former president taunt a current president with his golf handicap and the way he aced a cognitive test, the sort given to gauge dementia, during their first debate, it was all I could do to keep from burying my face in my hands. This may be where we are as a nation, but my soul has fled to the shore. When the events of this world get a little overwhelming I find great solace in re-focusing on the ancient, immovable things of this earth that could care less of our daily dramas. I was born in Cleveland, and for most of my life "north" meant one thing: Lake Erie. I've moved lots of places, only to discover I was disoriented without its constant boundary marker to navigate from, until I gave up and moved back a decade ago to a shore town. But I was a bit surprised that USA Today announced recently that our lake was the best in the nation. The publication said experts compiled a list — no small job, considering there are nearly 480,000 lakes in the lower 48 states — and then let readers choose. Those of us who grow up here know she is as treacherous as she is soothing, which seemed to be reflected in the polling, as Erie was noted for her beauty and beaches just as much as the unknown numbers of shipwrecks littering her floor. But honestly, our beloved lake getting top billing was a flip on the usual "industrial wasteland" script. It's not just the horizon getting all the glory this year, though. The skies have been up to something all year, too. If you are the sort of person who believes in signs, you may believe we were given one with the extraordinary total solar eclipse we witnessed here in April. The next one over the U.S. won't happen for another two decades, experts say. Earlier this month, Neptune, Saturn, Uranus, Mars, Mercury and Jupiter aligned for a "planet parade," an unusual formation in which all six planets could be seen lined up close together. That's once-in-a-decade stuff, astronomers say. And in mid-May, Ohioans were treated to the northern lights dancing across our skies for two nights. The aurora borealis — the northern lights' government name — came from a severe geomagnetic solar storm, the worst in 20 years, according to experts. Then there were the bugs. Luckily this one didn't reach us here in Ohio, but last month cicadas began emerging after more than a decade underground in many areas of the Midwest. But this year's bunch was different: two types emerged, Brood XIX and Brood XIII. The last time those two broods simultaneously hatched was 221 years ago — in 1803, when Thomas Jefferson was in the White House. They aren't expected to repeat the cycle for another 221 years. And according to entomologists at the Smithsonian Institute, blue-eyed cicadas — considered pretty rare, have been found in the Chicago area. What did I tell you about this year? The kicker, though, was Wakan Gli. That is the name given to a rare white buffalo born in Yellowstone National Park this month. The calf was spotted by a few photographers, astonishing park officials and the local Native American population. According to tribal beliefs, a woman generations ago appeared during near-famine times, presenting a pipe and a bundle to a tribal member. The pipe could be used to bring disappearing buffalo back, she said. As she left, she turned into a white buffalo. Chief Arvol Looking Horse, the spiritual leader of the Lakota, Dakota and the Dakota Oyate, told The Associated Press that he is the 19th keeper of the pipe and bundle and that legend states the White Buffalo Calf Woman said she would return in hard times as a white calf, with black nose, eyes and hooves. "Wakan Gli" means "return sacred" in Lakota. It is, as far as park officials know, the only white calf born in Yellowstone. Looking Horse said tribal officials consider it a blessing — a sign that prayers are being heard and that good times are coming, according to Lakota prophecy — and a warning to take care of nature and wildlife. "It's a miracle to us," he said. It's a strange, portentous year. Who knows what will come next? Contact Chronicle-Telegram columnist Rini Jeffers at rinijeffers@gmail.com.