Just on the Other Side
By Elizabeth Ricketson:
There was something about an image my daughter shared with me this past August. A vacation photograph of my granddaughters. Nothing unusual about that, but this photo stood out to me. A portrait that tells a story has always drawn me in, but this image went beyond the obvious. It was captivating. The subject matter has my heart, no doubt about that, but it struck me in a more expansive way. My two young granddaughters as they peered through the locked glass door of the Flying Horses Carousel on the Vineyard immediately drew me in.
They had ridden on the horses and even successfully won the coveted brass ring while on
vacation this summer. A number of times. Their youthful casual poses felt universal. Legs and
feet physically assisted their eager want to optimize their view. The younger on the balls of her feet, navigating the prohibitive grid of the window pane. The elder more relaxed in her
stance as height allowed, elbows resting against the glass while her head relaxed on her hands, possibly dreaming of her next ride or reflecting on her wins.
Their curiosity. Want. What existed on the other side of the locked glass door remained just
beyond their reach. A wishful longing.
I paused and stopped painting. I felt unsettled from my seat on the wooden oak stool in front of my easel. I stared at their elusive want, and it parlayed my thoughts into the distressing and troubling loop of current-day political understanding.
What will the country I adore be like in their future?
I have wrestled with this thought for the many years of this current administration. It is the same country that their great grandfather fought for in WWII. Will they know the freedoms I enjoyed as a child? Will their rights as females be once again protected? Will they experience a country that once again takes care of their own? A global citizen to be proud of? Kindness and humanity extended to one another? A free press allowed to report the truth and not be censored? Corruption exposed and penalized?
I ached with wanting something on the other side of a physical representation.
Voting.
The symbolism of a glass door resonated with me. Clarity. Transparency.
Who doesn’t see what is currently happening to our democracy? My awareness and want for the midterm elections is as constant as the counterclockwise rotation of a carousel.
My paternal grandfather was an Italian immigrant who never missed a vote. His right to vote was a cherished privilege he never took for granted nor neglected. Each voting opportunity was met with pride for a country he loved. His aged vision became diminished, but his devotion never wavered. My dad would escort him to the voting booth where he'd proudly cast his ballot. My siblings and I were raised to understand that voting was both a privilege and a responsibility.
Vote November 3, 2026 . . . early, if possible!
"The vote is the most powerful nonviolent instrument or tool we have in a democratic society. And people should be able to use it."
A graduate of Providence College with a BA in English, Elizabeth Ricketson has always had a love of literature and the fine arts. In the 1990s, she studied figure drawing at the Rhode Island School of Design, spending years dedicated to understanding human form, movement, and anatomy. Elizabeth’s essays focus on life experiences and life in Vermont. Essays available for consideration.
Website: elizabethricketson.net
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