Tonight down on Union Street
I’m thinking back baby to you and me
the way you used to be
and your words come back to mefrom passing cars
the voices sing out
and empty bars
where guitars ring out
we’d walk and talk about
who’d be the ones to get outyou said
none baby, but the brave
no one baby, but the bravethose strong enough to save
something from what they gaveand tonight, now I see old friends
caught in a game they’ve got no chance to win
gettin’ beat and then playin’ again
’til their strength gives out or their heart gives innow who’s the man who thinks he can decide
whose dreams will live and who’s shall be pushed aside
has he ever walked down these streets at night and looked into those eyesnone baby, but the brave
no one baby, but the brave
those strong enough to save
something from what they gaveBruce Springsteen
Prescient words from the boss, from nearly 1/2 a century ago. Donald Trump is that man who thinks he gets to decide whose dreams will live and whose shall be pushed aside.
I fear we are entering dark times. My life is likely to remain relatively untouched by this incoming administration of evil billionaire greedy dickheads. But millions will be negatively impacted. People whose lives already suck. People living on the margins whose existence is not guaranteed and who live in constant fear and anxiety. If a child gets sick there is no health coverage. If the parent gets sick they cannot afford to miss their shift at some shitty minimum wage job. If their car breaks down they must take the bus which adds hours to their daily commute. More time away from their families and less time to work at one of their multiple jobs. People who may be living here illegally but have done so for years. They pay their taxes and they have ties in the communities. They work hard and take care of their families and help each other out. Now they will go to sleep fearing for that knock on the door in the middle of the night or the raid at the food processing plant where they work. They will be rounded up and put in makeshift jails and wait to get deported while their spouses and kids and family remain behind.
This is the American continuous spectrum of fear and hatred against anyone who is not white or has the audacity to be poor. Votes of the poor are important as they can often be leveraged to further enrich the wealthy — but the poor themselves are despised.
Others, even without immigration worries, will see social safety programs eroded by the world’s richest man. A development so twisted and diabolical it sounds like something out of a dystopian super-hero movie — we now need a DC Super Hero to come kill Elon Musk.
So millions and millions will soon feel the wrath of these horrible horrible people who we’ve invited in to run our government.
A rhetorical discussion I know. But we are living through it and it’s impossible to have a medium of reflection and avoid it.
We took our annual pilgrimage to Florida to see Marvin and Kathleen and Diesel. With Martini between us, we rolled down highway 75 along with several million others trekking to their families for the holidays. We stopped in Knoxville Friday night and Atlanta Saturday night then pushed on through to Clearwater on Sunday.
Dinner in 6 cities in 6 nights; Worcester, Boston, Somerset, Knoxville, Atlanta, Clearwater Beach.
We spent 3 days in Clearwater and then headed back north.
Lots of road work but time passed along just fine. Audiobooks, podcasts, music, and chit-chatting. We stopped every 3 – 4 hours to walk the dog, get some water and a snack and then back on the highway. I set Marti’s bed right up to the edge of the front seats so she could lie or stand and be right there with us.
We stopped at our first buc-ees. It’s not easy to create a legendary destination stop around a gas station but these guys have done it. The stores are massive and sell anything you may want. One could do their Christmas shopping there in a pinch. But we found it a little much. Crazy chaos from a broad swath of Americana and loads of foreign tourists to boot. We got fuel, a little jerky and dried venison sausage for the dog and then we got the hell out of there. Brittany’s anxiety gets riled up in places like that and if someone crosses her the wrong way, I’m not sure I could protect them.
We had a nice visit with Marvin and Kathleen and the usual suspects in their neighborhood. We also started a very important now Christmas Tradition. Breakfast at Waffle House on Christmas morning. That will be our ongoing tradition from this moment on.
I need to start my year end wrap-up. Maybe I can find some time when we are at Black Dog Ridge.
No other news of note.
Humbly Submitted.
Robert Myres – Flanker, Portneuf Valley Rugby Football Club (ret.)
The Martini Tales 