Rise of the Silly Geese

Let's fight fascism with frisbees

“It’s like the hope of Spring is in direct conflict with all this chaos!”

The text from a weary friend arrived on a Friday morning and it summed up the mood of the week perfectly. Pretty much everyone I knew had had enough. Their personal and work lives were over-scheduled and overwhelming. Then, there was what many have simply started to refer to as: “and everything else,” gesturing to nothing in particular while acknowledging the elephant in every room in the country. Everyone I knew or even ran into seemed to be experiencing a similar variety of persistent tension and fatigue.

The weather stood in stark contrast to the gloomy trend. A long stretch of sun drenched days was the first we had experienced in months. There was fresh air and bird songs and a warmth that finally kept the winter coats at home. It could not have been more beautiful, but there was something else in the air.

“It’s so nice outside I think it’s making people more upset,” I texted in return, “they can’t even enjoy it.”

As my friend had so perfectly observed, the daily chaos seemed to be getting in the way of enjoying anything. Even attempts at enjoyment were falling flat. Anyone who’s ever been trapped in a dark room with a pesky mosquito knows the feeling. It may be out of sight, but its endless whine ensures you never let down your guard. You can’t relax.

I don’t know how you can blame anyone for being tired. One minute you’re basking in the sunshine with an iced coffee, the next you’re wondering what in the taxpayer-funded used car commercial happened to your retirement. Day after day, the architects of chaos deliver their latest design to further fray the nation’s nerves.

It’s a masterclass in abhorrent absurdity and exactly why you need to buy yourself a frisbee.

When it comes to the very heavy subject of fighting fascism, many people much smarter and more educated on the subject than I have pointed out that joy is a true act of resistance. Music, art, dancing, frisbee in the park — they’re not silly distractions — they’re the whole point of being alive. They remind us of what really matters, galvanizing communities from those eager to benefit from encouraging isolation and division, all while constantly stoking the fires of relentless outrage.

Joyful action isn’t silly for the simple reason that it fosters hope.

The “Survival of the Slickest” thing we have going on right now can certainly win a few battles, but it will never win a war. It never has. Regardless of affluence or strategy or flat out brutality, you cannot outplay, outwit, outlast — hope.

Hope plays the long game. Even when it is hard to find, hope is never really lost.

Hope cannot be bought or stolen or fired. For as much as humans throughout history have tried, hope cannot be snuffed out.

Hope lives. Hope fights. Hope gets passed down from generation to generation.

Hope doesn’t care if you see it cry and hope won’t hesitate to throw a punch. It endures failure, injury, sickness, and death.

Hope slides under the door and squeezes through cracks, casting slivers of light into the darkest of places.

It’s hope that encourages us to rest. It reminds us we need energy to fight for what we believe in and to become who we are meant to be. It keeps us moving forward while gently reminding us all we have is today.

Don’t hesitate when hope nudges you out the door on a beautiful day, urges you to put away the phone, close the laptop, roll down the windows and take the long way home.

Whatever the days may bring, the lives we deserve lie in the joy we create.

Fizz featured with an original carving by Joanna Walters (Instagram: @jopeydopes)

This essay originally appeared in my column in the March 20, 2025 edition of The Perry Herald in Perry, NY.