As a kid growing up during the Nixon administration I can recall a great deal of vociferous sparring in support of and in condemnation against the key players.
Like any kid, it was all I knew, so I thought that’s how things always were when it came to grownups and this thing they called “politics,” whatever that was.
Thankfully, I was simply too innocent to know how truly special Tricky Dick Nixon was.
That said, I can’t help but wonder how today’s kids will one day look back on this, the Tricky Trump administration, as their own initiation into their birthright of Democratic American Politics.
It’s an insidious stressor that can invade and permeate the otherwise clean, breathable air with the toxic vitriol relentlessly chugging forth from Trump’s sooty mouth.
How upset will they recall being the first time they saw one or both parents raise their voices-to each other, to the neighbor, to the tv, to them- out of a sense of frustration and helplessness?
Given the stakes, everything may have been riding on the nuances of that day’s political developments, even the family’s very cohesion and outright safety.
Be it the Nixon administration or the Trump administration, the dynamics and the consequences they carry are far more divisive in nature cooperative in spirit. And this is by design.
I’m willing to bet many poor and middle class families, not to mention migrant and minority ones have felt the pinch of this political edginess for at least twelve months now.
My family today consists entirely of me, a fifty-two year old man on SSDI and Sophie, my loving and loyal service dog. She’s 9 ½ years old, and we’ve been together for nine of them.
Despite all the additional intricacies in having the pitter patter of more (human) feet around the house, ours is already plenty complex.
Yet, despite our relatively simple existence, our home nonetheless stands to be profoundly affected by anyone’s measure.
What, you may wonder, could someone in my position know about the state of the nation such as it is today?
Simple. My family survived the Nixon administration and, despite my innocence hen, I still vaguely remember the feel of those days on my childhood.
It’s an esoteric thing that today’s kids-tomorrow’s adults-will one day understand when they, too, have that look in the rear view mirror as I am having now.
This in mind, the similarities are eerily similar, and ought not be understated or, more importantly, underestimated. It’s with this in mind that I’ve jotted down these thoughts. For me, they are nothing short of make-or-break.
Medicare and food stamps support for millions, myself included, are now on the chopping block. If those get cut, then we get cut along with it. As one advocate so aptly put it “...the children, the elderly, the disabled and the poor- all of American society’s most vulnerable citizens- stand to lose everything.
This, in order to finance the trillion-and-a-half dollar deficit created by tax “reform” legislation that provides unconscionably gratuitous tax cuts to the ultra wealthy at the expense of the average Joe, and astonishingly liberal tax breaks to big corporations at the expense of startups and sole-proprietorships.
Like millions of Americans, I’ve watched this develop into a political situation that less resembles democracy and more outright class warfare.
It’s identifiable by the relentless hostile attitudes and actions by a government perpetrated upon its own citizens by their elected representatives.
These behaviors are, in turn, supported by nebulous catch phrases directed toward chanting mobs carrying isolationist and racial overtones, convinced of their righteous belief that theirs is the one true leader.
Any potential challenger to this great leader is met with fervid chants of “Lock her up!” Meanwhile, the leader’s own questionable actions, in a sane world would raise doubts about his true intentions.
But somehow, a newly cited form of American English called, aptly enough, “alternative facts” explains away any conceivable scenario of nefariousness. In other words, the old platitude “If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit” still applies.
Today, an otherwise unelectable individual occupies the White House and, wouldn’t you know it, he remains as surprised as anyone about it. His longshot, fifteen minutes of fame has somehow turned into four years.
As of today, it’s been eleven months and, as expected, he’s accomplished exactly what many thought he would; nothing.
Unless, of course, you include his campaign of divisiveness between Americans and their elected leaders, and also between the leaders themselves. All the golfing and tweeting and tv watching leaves little time for governing.
Any efforts to that effect seem driven by an apparently tireless pursuit of a nationalist and white supremacist agenda, bent on reversing every imaginable accomplishment of the previous administration.
This divisiveness is by design, for it leads many voting Americans to try to figure out who among them could have supported such a blindly oppressive and openly greedy leader.
But it’s not good American citizenship to come out and openly ask “Did you vote for this grumpy old fart?” or words to that effect. It’s not just bad manners, but an affront on the sanctity of our secret ballot.
Instead, I have cleverly figured out how to identify these voters without coming across as rude or un-American; I just listen to other Americans.
Those who still preach the gospel of Trumpism aren’t hard to identify at all, and I’m not concerned about them. They are a lost cause, a down-the-road wacko lot that will never know what they’ll never know.
And then there are the Trump voters who, knowing they’ve made a mistake will bide their time until they might slyly interject some verbal atonement into a conversation.
Then, slowly but surely, gaining ever more confidence like a plane rolling down the runway, they’ll reveal themselves. Then they’ll ascend into the heavens toward their true redemption.
Though I am embellishing a little here, such a catharsis is not unusual for Trump supporters. They’ve suddenly become unencumbered by a horrible secret they’d long sought to be free of. They’ve grown a conscience, or have re-righted their moral compass, and are now free to move forward once again, wiser for their experience.
But first they must accomplish this. I’ve noted certain innocuous words that test the waters for a redemptive response often come up. Murmuring something like “I think he should’ve been impeached a long time ago” is one example.
These words are typically spoken with a fearful undertone, as if an outright admission would expose them. Then, their ultimate fear will ensue, dubious privilege of being drawn and quartered, or lynched in the town square.
And that’s without the bag over his head so as to make an awful example of what will befall others like him. Sounds dramatic but, hey, that’s life in a democracy a lá Trump.
Trump’s propaganda machine implies that citizens must not trust each other and even openly states that the FBI is the secret police and the KGB, too. “Divide and conquer,” the saying goes, and Americans, as a whole, are well on our way.
Still, I look for the silver lining and, sadly, it comes in the form of an “-ation:” Resignation, incarceration or even assassination.
For me, though anticipating, even hoping for something awful to happen to someone in order for me to feel safer about my circumstances is wrong. It’s simply not how I think, yet there it is, and I’m but one of many people caught up in an inner conflict with our true values..
Outwardly, I see this manifested in some interesting ways. Perhaps the most peculiar of these is hearing some of my typically mild-mannered friends become animated, then angry enough to be driven to use the f-word in polite conversation.
As with the notion of alternative facts, the term “polite” is both malleable and relative to whatever you want it to be. Inasmuch as the “good dishes and silverware” are reserved for special dinners, passing an f-bomb is as common as the salt and pepper at the table.
And I’m not talking about the muttered, under-the-breath kind of use, but the all-caps, bold and italic version. Not that the tone behind the use of the word matters, it’s that the word is used at all.
Likewise, I realize I’ve suddenly got the same inclination and, you know, it’s often out of my mouth before I realize it. Immediately afterward I think “Wait-did I just say that?” and the answer is always a resounding “Damn right, I did!”
I’m not making excuses or trying to avoid responsibility for my newly rediscovered potty mouth. Rather, falling into the habit of speaking without thinking is a recipe for further danger, as it can naturally lead to habitually acting without thinking. And that’s not me.
The current administration has proven its ability to bring out the best of the worst in society and, if approval ratings are any indication, many of us have learned our lesson. Now we must live with the consequences of that lesson.
Suddenly, the Mitt Romneys of the world never looked so good. What I wouldn’t do for a little articulation borne of a truly mature and literate brain, especially if it ideologically opposes my perspectives.
My brain could use some cerebral calisthenics to help it recover from the monosyllabic slave to the ceaseless barrage of 140 character, typically one-way “dialogue.”
That is, Trump’s tweeting is a real time display of his constantly derailing train of thought, a dark world into which all are invited but none are welcome. His “for” or “against” mindset leaves no room for “together.” And it’s evident in how we interact with each other.
The current administration has degraded our collective style of communicating, from sugar-coating reality to ease our mutual distress to the outright profanity we may use to vent our collective frustration.
However it occurs is a subject for future study. What matters now is that we fix this problem. Healing the manner in which we communicate will go a long way to bridging and repairing the divide that’s made our differences so apparent.
It’s not as if the president is incapable of this. His proclamation that he’s a “smart person with a good education from one of the best schools,” yadda yadda yadda. acknowledges this.
But it doesn’t require “all the best words,” as he puts it, to enthusiastically convey a point in a civil manner that will get the same positive results. It only requires the desire to do so.
Therefore, a certain defiance is required to drop the diplomatic tongue in favor of a monosyllabic vernacular with the sole purpose of stirring discontent. And the current American president is nothing if not defiant.
He’s long been aware his bitter expressions, properly directed, will distract from the true issue awaiting his attention. But these issues will not be ignored.
Words like “cuts to Medicare,” “trillion dollar debt,” “obstruction of justice” and, of course, “Russia probe” he hopes, will continue to go unnoticed over cries of “Build the Wall!” and “Lock Her Up!”
With each passing day, the reckoning for Trump and his “crooked” administration draws nearer. After all the bluster that’s spouted incessantly from the insecure misogynist, “Lock him up!” has a decidedly nice ring to it.
And, since the world is so used to seeing his sneering leathery, orange visage, he’ll find his own citrusy mug the perfect complement to his new prison jumpsuit.
But until that joyous time, only one question exists for those of us on the sidelines. We’ve done what we can and now must watch the wheels of democracy right the ship once again. But can we ride it out to the end?
Inasmuch as I survived Nixon, will I also survive Trump? I’d like to think I can.
Imagine all of the Americans who have lived full lives with a legitimate pride in their minds and a fond place in their hearts for their country before they passed away.
Imagine those whose lives met a premature end in service to the country they loved enough to risk making “the ultimate sacrifice.”
The very last, unfortunate impression these Americans may have had of their country is its degradation into something far less than what they’ve known it to be.
And what about the decorated servicemen and women who salute the president as he steps off the plane or the helicopter?They must honor a cowardly misogynist who’s proud of his ability to dodge the draft during Vietnam, referring to venereal disease as his “own, personal Vietnam.“
In effect, their respectful decorum is met with the same disdain by the president as he might express upon finding he’d stepped in chewing gum.
I don’t mean any disrespect to anyone alive or deceased in saying that the ultimate sacrifice today is saluting the current commander-in-chief.
Like trying to put your left shoe on your right foot and/or vice versa, or having to buy a pair of gloves or shoes when you need only one just feels nherently wrong.
Though taken in the right light it can be a point of humor, for instance I donate all of my widowed left-hand gloves to charity, hoping they’ll find their way to a right-hand amputee.
And so it goes with the current president, who blurted out within a month of taking office that his new job “was a lot harder than I thought” and that “ I miss my old life.”
To continue the metaphor, such people don’t always fit their position hand in glove. And though the glove may fit the hand, it may not be a good one.
The only remedy Americans have for this problem, then is to find a different hand or a different glove or both.In not yet having that warm glove, my fingers have grown numb as January 20th quickly approaches.
I’ve held on longer than I thought, largely due to my current state of indentured servitude to my country for vastly different reasons than most soldiers.
And just as July in Canada, with its relatively fresh-faced PM sounds appealing, Mexico sounds equally good this time of year.
Sure, let ‘em build that wall. Anyway, as a lifelong nonconformist, it’ll come as no surprise to people who know me that I am going to Mexico to get my green card.
Looks like those four years of high school Spanish in Señor Barkley’s class will pay some dividends after all.
How about you? Are you considering a change, even a teeny-tiny, temporary one? Well, ¡conmigo!
Mexico, I promise, is big enough for us all and a good thing, too. It may well become America’s last refuge once the Little Rocket Man gets his deadly toys to make it to the US mainland.
It’ll take a hell of a lot more than Rosie the Riveter and a cellar full of canned vegetables and beef jerky to survive Kim’s own special brand of “fire and fury, the likes of which (we Americans) have never seen.”
But who’d be foolish enough to make such a provocative statement to a baby-faced authoritarian who has never grown out of his “terrible twos?”
Well, observant Americans have come to learn something about a leader who’s not only old enough to wear diapers again, but acts as if he’s never grown out of them?
As I said, mature dialogue will make all the difference, and millions of Americans, using their grownup brains and outdoor voices can topple this government before it brings down the world.
America and Americans have shown their mettle in surviving the Red Coats, the Reds, and Richard Nixon.
With persistence I believe we can survive the Reds again, and it can only be done by overthrowing their puppet government led by, of all people, the American president
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