Some of its magic
Some of its tragic
But I had a good life all the wayJimmy Buffett
My kindergarten teacher’s name was Miss Boswell.
I remember her well; mostly because she wore short skirts and thigh-high black boots and looked a little like Mary Tyler Moore. It was probably the first time I understood the distinction between Ms. And Mrs. It seemed important to this 5-year old. I thought I had a chance.
But I also remember her because she was good enough at her job that she made an impression that remains some 57 years later. And not just because of the boots and skirts. I distinctly remember discussions and classroom exercises reinforcing ethical and moral behaviors. What was appropriate and what was not in how we treated our classmates and friends.
I think Donald Trump did not get that same early ethics training. It seems he was not loved enough as a child. So he grew up mean.
Trump seems to take a great deal of joy in his indifference to the pain and suffering of others. Even delights I think in being the source of that pain. In some perverse way, hurting others seems to animate him. He truly thinks it makes him appear masculine rather the small and pathetic. What kind of monster is that. A sociopath of course.
At a funeral for victims killed by a white supremacists in a Charleston church, President Obama sang ‘Amazing Grace’ — very soon the congregation joined him. When the bodies of four US servicemen who were killed overseas were being unloaded from a military transport plane back onto US soil, Donald Trump went off and played a round of golf.
This is a material difference in compassion and humanity.
I’ve been going through a moment. A long tough moment– these past few weeks. I kinda-sorta understand it. I solved this problem decades ago. Or thought I had. It has to do with compartmentalization. Putting emotions and compassionate responses and images into the right closet. Knowing it is there but also keeping the door closed. Sounds weird. It’s also about fundamentally deciding if you want to be part of this big ole circus or just ready to pack it in to see what comes next.
The sadness of the world can be overwhelming. Truly. Most people don’t know, or at least choose to be willfully ignorant, or simply try to forget. But there’s no simple way out of this.
And, by the way, for those of us who do not necessarily make a distinction between our human and our animal friends, as I don’t, their plight is every bit as hard to come to terms with. It’s hard to reconcile that beings who can show care and compassion for one another, can also be exceptionally cruel.
Our subconscious can be a real bitch. It applies pressures from places we aren’t aware of. Throws stone-cold, heavy ass pipe wrenches at our heads when we absolutely do not expect it. And we are defenseless.
But…….these are important messages, albeit clumsily delivered. The signs were always there but we ignored them — until the pipe wrench shows up. Work and family pressures and all the chaos and craziness of the world mask signals that our complex mental faculties are cracking. Our early warning systems are overrun by noise. Hence the pipe wrench.
I sought out a professional to speak with. Seemed the thing to do. Get on top of this shit before it gets on top of me. In addition to being off the charts emotional, I also process all this sort of stuff by talking about it. So that’s best. Marti is tired of hearing about my problems. She, rightfully, views the world through her walks, treats, meals, and ear-scratches. The important things.
For me, anxiety manifests with breathing issues. Other things too, but mostly it’s the breathing. It’s unpleasant. I feel like I can’t get enough oxygen. This symptom was literally absent from my life for a couple of decades. Gone, I thought. But I guess just in remission. Now it has found me. It comes and goes. We are circling one another to see who is stronger. What are our vulnerabilities.
Yesterday everything felt dark and heavy. But this morning I feel lighter. Refreshed. A round for me, and a round for….whatever you call this nonsense. Fucking bullshit is what I call it. But that’s not the clinical term.
All the negativity and the sadness and the indifference to our planet and other beings has broken down the doors. Now that we see our fellow humans applauding and endorsing Trump as he deliberately brings sadness and trauma down on individuals and institutions and broad groups of people. Indiscriminately and without any redeeming return. It seems important to repeat that. Every action Donald Trump takes, seems intended to harm someone, or a group of people, or the planet.
This damage to others, takes a little cut out of each of us. Or it should.
I’ve no idea what motivates this man. Perhaps just bringing pain because he is able to so do.
To talk about this situation any more is rhetorical.
But there is another aspect to this. For me, it’s the concept that I simply don’t want to live in a world where Trump, and people like Trump, are put into power by ignorant, small-minded, petty people who are dissatisfied with their lives and can only blame others for their misfortune. Meanwhile, the vast majority of people in this country who have traditionally been truly marginalized — native Americans, immigrants, blacks, Asians and all women, are smart enough to see this charade for what it is.
But these feelings. This anxiety that sits on my chest and chokes off my breathing comes from somewhere. This life or perhaps another one from times past. Who knows. I just know it’s back and it feels like it might be settling in for a while. It packed a bag.
I’ve always relied on context and perspective to keep me on the positive side of the curve but maybe that’s just a cheap trick. Subterfuge more than adjudicated.
Anyway. If one doesn’t want to live in such a world. And one cannot change it…..
I have to remain in the present. I don’t want to let the Maga people win. Although, I suppose one could argue they already have, simply by exposing how corrupt and ignorant at least half of the people in the world are. Acceptance of the suffering of so many, at the whims of others, seems like giving up. Knowing that at least half the population finds this whole mess disgusting and unacceptable helps a bit.
The other day, I took a long motorcycle ride over the rolling hills and country roads and that pure joy gives temporary relief. Being fully present is good medicine.
We just completed a nice long road trip. That always helps too. I took off from Somerset at 4:30 on Friday morning (April 25). Marti was co-pilot. We drove to Columbia SC and stayed there. We had a couple of nice long walks and I took a Friday Night Martini at The Black Rooster in West Columbia. It was good. Fine. Relaxing. I wrote a bit while people-watching and enjoying my meal while Marti snoozed in the car. The next morning we drove on to Jacksonville. I took Marti to a nice dog park and brewery. These are becoming common and are great fun. Like-minded dog lovers and cold beers.
Brittany flew into Jacksonville Saturday evening. She ran the Columbus 1/2 marathon, had a glass of champagne, and then headed for the airport. We drove to Tampa Sunday morning where I was working for the week. Yesterday morning we drove from Tampa to Fort Mill SC and found another great dog park with a bar attached. Marti played a bit but mostly hung around us — jealous that we were petting other dogs. I had my FNM at Firebirds. Pretty average but a nice relaxing meal after a long day on the road and balancing work calls in the car. This morning we drove on in to BDR after a stop at Better Biscuits and a Whole Foods knock off for provisions.
Marti got to run on the beach again and she met her first armadillo — who was sadly less interested in Marti than she was in it.
Road trips always make me feel better. And a week here at BDR, in nature, also replenishes.
We listened to Jimmy Buffett all the way from Fort Mill SC to Black Dog Ridge. It’s hard not to let the blues slip away while listening to Jimmy. A fellow traveler. Maybe movement is what has insulated me all these years. I thought I had a clever psychological trick to keep all the demons at bay — but maybe the whole time it was being perpetually on the road. Jimmy sold escapism and even made it acceptable. As he says ‘it cleans me out, so I can go on.’
There will always be those who feel more comfortable not venturing from the warmth of the hearth, but there are those who prefer to look out the window and wonder what is beyond the horizon.
Some good friends have been checking in to show love and support. So using all the tools in the toolbox to stay sane.
Amidst all the craziness, we managed a nice and successful fundraiser for Silver Linings. Terri organized. A nice soup and salad lunch and we showed some pictures and talked about the important work of helping others who don’t have meals enough for the next day and cannot afford medicine and whose existence is as tenuous as a lit candle in a windstorm.
I’ve been writing about and discussing the decline of America for more than 25 years – the inevitability of us coming to a moment like this. In American politics, the GOP began truly dividing people and expanding the use of false information under Ronald Reagan (think trickle down economics and tax breaks for the wealthy). Regan also illegally supplied arms to both Iran and Iraq during their war. He also armed contra rebels in Nicaragua and Osama bin Laden in Afghanistan and generally had the most corrupt administration in the modern era (pre-Trump).
Reagan also started the demonization of the poor, blaming single mothers and people taking advantage of government assistance for all the country’s fiscal problems. These Reaganomics principles are many times proven destructive but are still espoused by the GOP today. A wealth grab for the already phenomenally rich continues to be presented as a credible economic policy for the entire country.
Republicans, back in power after 8 years of Bill Clinton, continued to undermine the middle and lower classes and erode our economic foundations. George Bush, clumsy and dumb, was gifted the presidency by the Supreme Court. A decision that proved to be really bad for the world. Bush continued de-regulating financial institutions resulting in the massive stock market and bank crash in 2008 — which then fell on Obama to clean up. Bush also pushed through large tax cuts for the wealthy and just for the hell of it, illegally invaded 2 sovereign nations, both of which posed no significant threat to our national security and ultimately cost the US trillions of dollars, killed and maimed tens of thousands of our young men and women and countless numbers of Iraqi’s and Afghani’s. For what? Because he could. Sound familiar?
During the Clinton years, Newt Gingrich initiated a new kind of hateful rhetoric which set the stage for the complete unraveling of statesmanship and cordial Congressional relations. In current times, the ignorant and evil Republicans like John Kennedy from Louisiana, Ted Cruz, Tom Cotton, Marjorie Taylor Greene, Nancy Mace & Lauren Boebert, all were fostered in by Newt Gingrich, who was allowed to spread his misinformation and outright lies by the GOP elite as long as it served their needs.
The fact that Biden, in spite of being old as fuck and fumbling around like a doddering old gramps, was able to repair some of the damage of Trump 1, help us through COVID, re-establish diplomatic relations and oversee a strong economy, was lost on MAGA.
Trump has simply picked up on this misinformation and power play and turbo-charged it to exorbitant heights. I have no tolerance for Republicans who act surprised that the game they invented, and is essentially working as designed, is now out of control. They doubled down on stupid and here we are, witnessing daily new examples of lunacy from this administration.
It’s instructive to understand that In the past 40 years, China has made massive investments in infrastructure. America has given all our gains to billionaires. They have dozens of high-speed trains connecting the country. We have Amtrak. China has played us like a cheap fiddle for decades and are now standing by while we self-destruct completely. They prepared themselves for this moment by investing in their middle class and infrastructure while we shoveled money into the accounts of our fat, opulent, and greedy wealth class.
One of the problems with having an absent father is you can’t really trace the arc of your relationship. I think for most, there is a point where the gap between boy and man narrows and probably there are some years where some sort of parity and friendship is achieved. I have only a recollection of subordination and then, decades later, a feeling of mild disgust and estrangement. I don’t know why it matters or why it comes to the surface now. I suppose just another meadow of fertile emotional soil that has lain unexplored and now wants to join the pity party.
In my neighborhood, fathers were more absent than present. So I was not unique. At school, there were a good number of kids whose fathers were around a lot more, but they were mostly a social class above ours. The true working class went to their factories or other blue collar jobs and then sorta disappeared somewhere. I don’t know where they went. My dad seemed to have better things to do I guess. I don’t remember missing it or even finding it really unusual. Other kid’s fathers knew my sports stats and exploits far better than my dad. But I don’t remember caring. I suppose indifference is learned — and eventually repaid.
I rarely saw the man, to be honest. Almost never alone. At dinner and then he’d go to someone’s house for drinks and cards or maybe sit in front of the tv. The only times I ever remember being along with my dad was when we took our annual fishing trip to Michigan. There were other families along and of course my sibs. In the early morning, before dawn, dad would come into the kids bedroom where we were stacked up in bunk beds like prisoners in a camp. No words were spoken. When I heard him moving around and come into the room, I just quietly got up and got dressed and met him outside to start packing the boat. We would go fish for an hour or two and then come back for breakfast before he went back out with a few other kids. We didn’t say much really but it felt nice being there and having him to myself.
I had breakfast at Waffle House in Columbia SC as I made my way down-country to Tampa. To the uninitiated, WH is a world unto itself. The workers are cheerful and well coordinated. Their system is tight. People know their roles and do it efficiently and with a smile. It dawns on me that probably not a one of them, when they were young and full of dreams of their futures and possibilities, planned to be working at Waffle House in their 40’s, 50’s and 60’s. But here they are. They show up. For minimum wage or something close to that. Doing the hard work every day to raise their children. Pay their rent. Take care of siblings and grandchildren and parents. With a smile. The food is predictable and tasty and probably not quite as bad for us as we are led to believe.
I’m a fan and I like to think a member of the Waffle House family. I think all Congressional members should be required to eat at Waffle House at least once a week. These are the people they should be focused on helping. The primary context for Congressional members, when they want to brag about knowing a waiter or waitress, is more likely to be their favorite bartender at the Capital Grille than someone working 2 jobs to barely keep their head above water.
Brittany and I clicked over on our 4-year anniversary. Still going strong. Still having fun. A strong beam of sunlight in the darkness. It reinforces the cliche that good things sometimes happen when unexpected — or when you aren’t even looking. It’s a good bit of anchoring when I otherwise might be adrift.
Neither of us remembers the exact day we met. It was just Good Friday and so that’s when we celebrate. It’s easy and kinda silly and kinda sweet.
I’ve never understood why we celebrate Jesus’s birth on exactly the same date every year. But his death is remembered on some Friday in March or April.
Work is super weird. Not unprecedented but just fucking weird. Essentially I am being told just to go with the flow and let the program unwind the way it does. My entire job is to make sure this large ship gets off the dock and on course smoothly. It’s obvious our teams are not prepared and the captain is a little boozy. In these matters, it’s relatively easy to course correct now, just a 1 or 2 degree shift in ships heading and work with the crew before we are out of port and things would be fine. But instead, the word is down from central command to let the drunken captain have the wheel and give the navigator the day off. This is textbook behavior for putting a program off track from Day 1.
Once we are several months down route, and we find our heading is incorrect, it will take a 20 or 25 degree course correction and many miles to make up. Assuming we want to arrive at the same time, we have now added many miles to the journey, piling on cost and undue stress on the crew.
An imperfect analogy I know, but you get the idea. Besides, I’m tired of talking about work. It’s not my nature to stand by and watch a ship veer off course. I’m thinking of quitting even though I don’t have another job lined up. It adds to the stress and I hate working for organizations whose leaders are not serious people.
When I was having my FNM at The Black Rooster in Columbia SC. A Chinese PhD student sat next to me at the bar. He is studying a complicated form of statistics that is narrowly focused on infectious disease transmission. His spoken English was not great but he understood and read English well. Nice kid. Smart. We had a short but interesting conversation. I apologized on behalf of America. But he was smart enough to make nary a single political observation. Like I said, smart.
When he first sat down, he looked over and saw I was typing on my iPad and he asked if I was working. I said ‘sorta’. He replied ‘you’re old. How come you don’t retire‘. ‘Good question I said‘.
Most hospitals remain more cognizant of style than substance in administration. So when I go to see the execs, I have to wear a suit. I dug up a suit that I had custom made in Amsterdam around 2,000 or so. it still fits. A little snug, sure, but good enough.
One last story from the road trip. I’ve had my current car for 3.5 years and it has nearly 70,000 miles on the odometer. It also has the same license plate and the same plate holder that was installed at the dealership. Not once in 3.5 years have I been pulled over by a cop. Brittany was driving a few of us back from dinner one night in Tampa and she was pulled over by a female cop who looked about 17. The reason — the young crime-solver could not see the name of the state of my license plate.
Brittany’s driving was fine. But of all the crimes in Tampa that evening, the most pressing issue was that this young cop desperately needed to see the state my car lived in. The rest of the plate, the parts showing the current registration and numbers, you know, the important part, was plainly visible.
So…..put a black person in the drivers seat and things are just different. If Brittany had been an immigrant, that traffic stop may likely have resulted in a deportation.
This is where we are.
Be well everyone. Take care of each other.
I think about Paris when I’m high on red wine
I wish I could jump on a plane
So many nights I just dream of the ocean
god I wish I was sailin’ again
yesterday’s over my shoulder
so I can’t look back for too long
There’s just too much to see waiting in front of me and I know that I just can’t go wrongJimmy Buffett
Humbly Submitted
Robert Myres – Flanker, Portneuf Valley Rugby Football Club (ret.)
The Martini Tales 