Ever get the feeling that every action is just another cover up story for something more devious, something dirty, something to be kept secret until the timing’s right? I hope not, because living that way seems dark. To second guess each person’s intentions; to faithlessly utter words that shout but have no evidence; to look over your shoulder in your own home; to never understand the beauty of trust and faith in one another. All of that adds up to a kind of hell I don’t want to imagine. The sprinting from one pole of reality to the next possibility, without confidence , will do things to the human spirit that just aren’t good.

And yet, here we are. September 15th, 2024.

It’s 6:00 PM and my daughter is talking to me about Taylor Swift. She doesn’t mention anything about Russia, Ukraine and NATO. Nor does she say anything about the former president playing golf. But she does talk about church and Christ and that’s helpful.

Yet it’s the glamour of Taylor’s thigh-high boots, her fame, and her presidential endorsement and the fallout that she wants to talk about. We have five minutes, in this short time between the four mile forest hike we just took and dinner. She doesn’t mention the different shades of brown we saw amongst a herd of deer, leaping from one side of the ditch to the other, through sunlight that bleached them yellow, until landing. There’s a bourbon brown, soft bronze, copper-brown , as many shades as the world has eyes.

But she wants to talk about Taylor Swift. I think she’s just more comforting.

It makes sense. Taylor Swift is a common story– as daily as a weather report and more frequent than every rosary bead that slips through your fingers. If you share her, there’s something you have in common with the world. She’s the Type O negative blood type of casual conversations– everyone can receive her– and she’s wholesome. If you have nothing to say, just ask anyone a question– like, “Hey, have you seen Taylor’s latest post?”

“OMG! I can’t believe it.”

“Wait, wait wait, don’t tell me about it. I haven’t had my phone in 5 hours. I just wanted to get excited.”

But you can’t talk about other things.

You can’t mention God and not offend a person.

You can never really commonly say you are proud of the president.

Nor can you assume that every family is traditional, so now the default family is non-traditional.

And you can’t mention truths for fear of losing your livelihood.

But you can mention Taylor Swift. And you can create new words to explain something that isn’t real. And you can dance as a naked sex god in front of children, and you can confuse kids by sending them to ambitious counselors who tell them they are either depressed, gay, trans, or hyperactive.

But you can’t mention God, or why our country is the greatest country in the world. You can’t discuss policy. You can’t discuss truth. But Taylor Swift can be spoken of all day long. She’s a safe word.