There’s No Place Like Home

Things change so fast these days that I wanted to share my reaction to this major news story before it gets pushed off the front page. My problem is that I always link my pieces to Santa Barbara — but I couldn’t find a single local connection to this story. Until … I found … this:

In 1935, a short comedy film called La Fiesta de Santa Barbara — yes, that Fiesta — featured a 13 year-old singer named Judy Garland, who, as a woman, became one of the original embodiments of modern day brat. In 1939 Judy became famous for playing Dorothy, the heroine in The Wizard of Oz. So my question is: Who’s playing our Dorothy heroine today?

Of course it’s Kamala. And I’ll explain what I mean by that. But — I really don’t want to talk about the flying monkeys.

Here’s the parallel: Seemingly out of nowhere, Dorothy drops out of the sky into our noisy colorful world — it’s so sudden and unexpected, it’s like she’s been hiding in a vice-presidency. She immediately inspires the democratic Munchkins to dance, to sing, to go somewhere over the rainbow. And, though she brings personal baggage along with her (in the form of Toto — apparently Dorothy’s a dog person not a cat lady), she does seem brave enough to confront a world that appears hostile, nonsensical, and illogical.

The world is like that because we, the people, who appear as lions, tin men, and scarecrows, have lost our way. We are no longer courageous, we feel little empathy for others, and we are unable to think clearly. And so Dorothy’s adventure, and our own adventure, begin immediately and simultaneously.

First she must defeat the Wicked Witch, a creature who occasionally wears a very distinctive hat, uses avaricious flying monkeys to do her evil bidding, and seems to have no real “plan,” except to create chaos and seek revenge … let’s not overdo the parallel here. And I told you, I hate talking about those monkeys.

I’ve pointed out who the Wicked Witch could be in our parallel world — but who is our Wizard of Oz? Who controls all that happens to us from behind a curtain that hides his every move? He is as unseen as a wireless connection — yet we feel his influence everywhere.

Who is this Great Oz? Who is this Great Influencer? Maybe that’s our answer. The Great Oz and Influencer are the same thing — the invisible force pulling the all-powerful strings that shape and prioritize our world — our social media.

Now, assuming Dorothy defeats the Wicked Witch (perhaps by effecting a meltdown after which only the hat is left), what is she going to do about this power of the Great Oz? I think she must convince Oz to give us back our Courage, our Empathy, and our Critical Thinking — even if they’re in the form of metaphorical tokens. We need those attributes in order to have any chance at saving our noisy, colorful world from self-destruction.

But what happens if she fails? Nobody knows. But what is certain is that life is now moving faster toward annihilation than a twister destroying Kansas.

And that’s where the parallel ends. Because our heroine can’t just tap her ruby red shoes together and return home — home where everyone tries to be kind and understanding, home where Toto is just her dog and not personal baggage, home where a person can be inspired to change by having colorful dreams.

Because that home doesn’t exist anymore. If it ever did.

All of you know that Kamala isn’t really Dorothy. And most of you know that there really is a Wicked Witch.

And I’m still scared to death of those monkeys.