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Thank You Notes

Thank you, President Trump, for your assuredness early on in the COVID19 pandemic, as it began in the USA. What a relief it was to know that you could declare that this was just like the flu. No big deal. 

Thank you, President Trump, for reminding us that, “One day, it’s like a miracle. It’s going to disappear.” We should all live so long.

Thank you, President Trump, for letting us know that, “Anyone who wants a test can get one.” Well, nobody really WANTS to get that COVID19 test, right?

Thank you, President Trump, for announcing that, “A vaccine will be available soon.” 18 months is not that long. I mean an 18 month old is still a baby.  

Thank you, President Trump, for asserting that the US was “the most prepared country in the world.” I’m sure we were; just not since 2016.

Thank you, President Trump, for suggesting that this novel Coronavirus was a Democrat hoax, distraction, attempt to undermine your presidency. Your instincts are truly consistent. We can count on you to remind us of other awfulness, at any moment for any reason.

Thank you, President Trump, for closely watching the stock market plummet while COVID19 cases and deaths continue to rise exponentially. Now we have a two-front war.

Thank you, President Trump, for calling yourself a “Wartime President”. I was thinking of some other names. 

Thank you, President Trump, for your daily briefings. They are anything but brief, and barely informative, since the next one introduces a different protocol than previously suggested. Your omnipresence is hard to miss. I feel like I have a front row seat at one of your rallies. 

Thank you, President Trump, for mentioning Governor Cuomo in New York, and Governor Newsom in California and that woman in Michigan. So many governors.

Thank you, President Trump, for acknowledging your status as #1 on Facebook. WOW! I can’t begin to imagine how many hits that means.

Thank you, President Trump, for exemplifying family values and showing confidence in your do-it-all-son-in-law, Jared Kushner. You understand better than anyone, that youth, unencumbered by mastery, experience, or any success, gives a pandemic a new look. His understanding of the separation of Federal and State stuff is really amazing. When he said, “…Our stockpile” is not for state use, he must have meant that the federal stockpile is intended to supplement the states’ needs. See, he gets it. We have so much yet to learn!

Thank you, President Trump, for insisting on “regular” voting—none of this mail in ballot stuff. Changing anything now would be so difficult. I know you want to see a Democratic Convention this summer.  I’m sure you would love to see people go to their regular polling places in November. Your commitment to keeping America great (again) is always on full display. 

COVID19:Laura Petrie, Dish

Tell us what you would do

From home

As you whimper,

“Oh RAHAHAHAHAHB”.

 

 

If you are quarantined

Laura Petrie,

Dish on your life:

What’s changed?

 

 

No more coiffing

In case of coughing

Or Bridge 

With Mill and Jerr

 

 

Send Richie away

While you just stay

Flitting in place

In  capris.

 

Did you mind your daily

Life before

These weighty times

Demand?

 

What did you want to do

With you

Up to this March of

2020?

 

New Rochelle is feeling old

And sick and scared;

It’s not what we

Remember.

 

We need some silly

And stability,

Imagination,

And Comity.

 

Laura Petrie, Dish

On what it’s like to just be

Loved for being

Love.

Prepare For Good Luck

I always prepare for good luck. Now, we are all truly preparing for good luck. My fear, aside from loved ones becoming sick with COVID19, and an even more unmanageable situation in hospitals and throughout, is that we begin to fear one another even more than we did. I fear that the virus will be a brand, like HIV-AIDS was. Despite the more ubiquitousness of COVID19, people who are not (yet) sick, may have a false sense not only of security, but of ability.

I fear that people may begin to regard those who are sick and not in the most vulnerable demographics as being worthy of condemnation or suspicion, merely for becoming sick. I fear the original usage of social distancing. I fear our loss of compassion just as we were beginning to find some. 

There is much to fear at this moment, as so much is beyond our control. While attempting to stay informed, I confess that I protect my fragile psyche with not entertaining thoughts about the looming disaster while still doing whatever I can within reason to ensure comfort and endurance, at least for the next couple of weeks at a time. It’s all I can do. (That, and utter gratitude for all that I have.)

I have always felt incredibly lucky. That doesn’t mean that there has never been effort or challenge. Of course there has been plenty, like anyone else, and I know that pain and suffering—physical and mental–are debilitating. Too often I have been fearful, which is its own form of pain and suffering, and exacerbates all conditions. It distorts and diminishes possibility. It infects on top of infections. And when fear arises within me, I feel powerless.

I am not unafraid of the possibilities of bad luck in this time of COVID19, but I am not particularly afraid. That could change at any time, of course, but now I am mostly afraid of fear (thank you, FDR), and what suffering it causes. 

Much has already been acknowledged about how much has been laid bare as we are scrambling to prepare for good luck across the globe, but especially across the USA. The crisis will not be forever, but who knows how long temporary is? The dire prospects are most unsettling, even imagining the aftermath. As we have seen before, the possibility of compassion and responsibility redefining us as we meet this novel virus is upon us. There is also the possibility of being overwhelmed by fear and losing our greatest strength, our compassion.

We are social beings who can’t be social right now. Our social distancing is, ironically, a way to be social while attempting to mitigate exposure to the virus. As we are beginning to meet this challenge and be prepared, prepare to dig deep to mitigate fear. Be compassionate to yourself and others, and prepare for good luck. 

Making Love

Remember when we made love? Sure, we had intercourse, but it was different than getting f***ed. Making love was already anachronistic when we were coming of age, but it was a gentler way of approaching a potentially risky situation that underscored some sort of (potential) relationship. Making love was not merely a power play or sexy situation. 

It was always a misnomer. The ideal of differences uniting had to have pleasure attached to any power differences, (or the delusion that there was absolute equality). The ties that bonded were never wholly pure or without power plays, but people wanted to believe in making love, or were content with the facade—at least temporarily.

Maybe just some people wanted to make love. Others merely wanted the pleasure of the act, but they placated and performed either feigning the desire of unity or exacting power and humiliation, while the polite party demurred.

And on the occasions in which the polite party no longer claimed making love, and called out the power plays that harmed, they continued to get f***ed.  And it hurt. 

Assault and rape have always existed as shadow behaviors (and crimes). Now they are happening before our eyes in broad daylight on our screens, repeated 24/7, and we are agonizing not only from the pain, cruelty, and shamelessness, but from despair. 

The low-lifes gaslight. Their desperation and inability to engage in actual consensual relationships other than with those who will pimp or pose or blindly cheer for them, has created endless urgency to respond. It is terrifying and exhausting.

We had intercourse, but didn’t really believe in the schmaltzy “making love”. But the lust for power, more often than not, overshadowed a gentle love. And that lust for power has increasingly generated a making hate. 

Hate making has always existed between us. We thought we eradicated the overt gestures and speech, but they are manifesting daily, and tolerated (and even condoned). And as one who hates hate, I must put forth great effort to not reinforce my own tendencies to hate. 

Our relationship over the last many, many years has been making hate, with the occasional love making. Not just my pleasure versus an other’s. There has been insidious and overt diminishment, assault, manipulation, lying, cheating, hurt, threats, brutality, and all manners of harm inflicted, with no concern or regard. 

The effects are trauma and clinging to memories of all that I love, and wish we could make. 

T Leaves

I’m not in the prognostication business, but Mr T will eventually leave office. We must insist that he leaves ASAP.  Each and every day for the last 3 years, he has demonstrated his ignorance, incompetence, cruelty, boorishness, lawlessness, well….you know. I don’t need to provide a catalog description. 

Doing what one can is easily perverted into getting away with whatever is possible, rather than an aspiration to achieve with honor and dignity. Giving aid and comfort to those who will do whatever possible in the service of rigging is shameless and shameful. It always causes strain to Democracy, and has real life repercussions. This has surely been a pattern within American politics, but it has reached an unprecedented and dangerous level with this T strainer. 

I don’t believe we get what we deserve. I don’t believe anyone deserves to be living in a dictatorship or a dysfunctional Democracy. We deserve to see justice served. We deserve to have Mr T and his entire team held to account. Then we deserve to see that the T leaves. 

The Sharpie’s the Point

It’s hard to think of a single moment or tweet that would define this President or this presidency. Each one seems to be jaw dropping.  But his Etch-a Sketch altering the National Weather Service’s map of Hurricane Dorian’s path points to the profound stupidity, ignorance, stubbornness, illegality, incompetency, and as Pete Buttigieg suggested, “pathetic”-ness of this presidency.

The visual of the Sharpie map, much less being held up by Trump, is one that will linger longer than the chants or the tweets. Have you ever seen anything so amateur, much less from the office that is supposed to be the most professional in the world? Of course the entire presidency has been amateur at best.  This White House doesn’t even feign professionalism or the art of governance. They provide fake news and might as well use an Etch-a-Sketch. Just shake it and it goes away. But this one won’t.

The point of Trump’s magic marker alteration of Dorian’s path was a contemptible attempt to “prove” that he did not misspeak about the hurricane risk to Alabama. Like magic, he could mark the path as he meant it to be on an official government weather map and everything would be ok. Except that people’s homes and lives were in danger (or not). People had to make actual decisions that affected their lives. Oh, and it’s illegal to alter a National Weather Service map. 

Like he has always done, Trump reveals his truth by projection. His accusations of fake news could not be more perfectly manifested than on his Sharpie map. His ignorance, (either not knowing, or not caring, or both) of the legal ramifications in the moment, were literally on display.  His lack of talent, intellect, knowledge, curiosity, thoughtfulness, steadiness, decency, maturity, flexibility, depth, or caring were indelibly marked with that Sharpie. He doesn’t even play POTUS well. He blames everyone for what he is and does. He knows it and so do we. He can try to show a false projection, but we know better. 

Whenever you get frustrated over actual policies that require nuance and compromise and serious thought, remember this ridiculous map. That cone of silence that is the party of Trump is complicit in all that is deplorable emanating from this White House. Sharpies are for labeling. Trump is good at labeling. That’s it. The Sharpie’s the point. I hope this absurd incident will remain indelible. We need to remember that we can be (and have) so much better. 

Make No Bones

Make no bones about it….telling someone (much less four women of color who are MEMBERS OF CONGRESS) to go back to their countries is a bigoted, hateful, racist, deplorably hideous statement. It is also reflective of an an ignorant and stupid person playing POTUS, as 3 of the 4 Congresswomen were born in the USA, and the 4th is a naturalized citizen. It’s a shameful and disgraceful statement to say to anyone, not to mention, immature and pathetic. 

In response to criticism that the POTUS is a racist, he declared that he doesn’t have “a racist bone in his body”.  And of course, the responses to that ranged from suggesting that he has a racist spleen, to a racist heart, and mind. 

Apparently, one can say that tweets are racist and have that be distinct from the tweeter being racist. We all know how absurd this whole thing is, and we all know how unacceptable this is from anyone, much less the POTUS.

Make no bones about it, bigotry is anti-Democratic; it is UnAmerican (in the aspirational sense).  Of course, the skeletons in America’s closet have always been about bigotry and discrimination.  The calcification of hate has allowed it to re-emerge front and center, and cause excruciating pain. 

Plenty has been said about the phrase, “I don’t have a racist bone in my body”, which only seems to be uttered by people who make bigoted comments, even if they don’t think they are saying something bigoted or racist. The obviousness is not lost. The certainty of exclusion and discrimination is definite, even if cowards refuse to acknowledge it. 

Make no bones about it, with the exception of 4 Republicans in The House, and one Independent, the Republican party stands in solidarity with a POTUS who is utterly reprehensible. They choose to defend the indefensible, and the shocking cowardice mounts daily.

If someone wanted to express dissatisfaction, they would “make no bones about it”.  It would be a simple, unequivocal statement, not a tortured word salad. In fact, the phrase “make no bones about it” derives from 15th century England. In this origin story, if one found bones in soup, it made it difficult and unsatisfying to eat. Make no bones about it—its consistency is satisfactory.

Make no bones about it, we know hate and fear when we have to digest it daily (if not hourly). We see discrimination and cruelty every day with policies; with cold cases and new cases; with ridiculous verdicts that let evil go unpunished and unchecked; with the megaphone that the Troller in Chief uses to expel gas that gets ignited by fearful, angry cowards who feel powerful by ranting and spewing hate, which they like to cloak in faux love and patriotism.  

People can have radically different views of patriotism and a vision for our country without discriminating. Make no bones about it, we know that those who stand with hateful words and actions are complicit, and we are so much better than those who seek to spoil. 

Our Lady

What a week! It is Good Friday today and Passover Eve tonight, following the release of the somewhat redacted Mueller Report, which followed the Barr Presser/Spinner. Earlier in the week we were aghast as we watched much of Notre Dame engulfed in flames. 

I know you are still digesting the Mueller Report, and perhaps anticipating family and religious celebrations this weekend, but think a bit about the extreme events and emotions of this week.

We shared sadness while watching Notre Dame burn, and relief over what didn’t burn. While much was discussed about the incredible history of the cathedral, and the brilliance of architecture and art that it represented as well as religion, the burning emblem of Western Civilization seemed metaphoric to me. 

What was painstakingly built from a breathtaking idea, with mastery, knowledge, beauty, reverence, guidance,  for the public for the ages, was burning down. To some, the story was the raging fire; to others it was about the remains and rebuilding. It was not only about Notre Dame. It was about our lady as well.

We have been losing our Democracy for some time. It has been in serious need of repair. Then, as though engulfed in an uncontrollable fire, we’ve been watching with horror as “norms” that have buttressed our Democracy have been burned down. In our case, it’s been arson.

Yes, we can save much,  and we can rebuild. And we shall. But the embers are still sizzling here, and some are even reigniting.  

We need more of the lady-ness, not the raging. More than a statue of liberty, we need our lady, our elegant Democracy, to be restored and renewed and built for a healthier future. Whatever your celebration, I hope you are inspired toward participation. And Vote! It’s the most Ladylike thing you can do. 

 

Same Year Next Time

Every New Year we decide to create the past. The year that was is no longer an ongoing saga, but something that happened. That was then. Now becomes the future. This year is a wish; a hope; maybe an intention. 

When we are in a positive mood looking toward the possibilities of the new year, we accentuate the favorable, as though we know how to conquer the negative now.

We look back at what went wrong, and how we were oppressed and/or depressed, and vow to do differently going forward. 

We celebrate surviving that which terrified us or traumatized us, or whatever we had to get through, and imagine not having to face such situations again, because time is on our side now.

We look at History and compare and contrast to previous moments, characters, and events. We  think this time will be different. It’s so many years (decades, centuries,….) hence; we are better. 

We like to believe that we have progressed to the extent that basic human qualities—the ones that tend to drive history—have been mastered. And yet, in each generation, the dramas are reenacted. 

We believe we bury the past with the promise of each new year. Somehow though, Zombies walk among us. The fascist from a century ago; the Nazi; the homophobe; the misogynist; the racist; the ones who seemed to be not of this era, but who desperately want to redefine it in some retro-limited way.  How is this possible? Isn’t time progressive? Isn’t Evolution ultimately positive transformation?

When anger, resentment, ignorance, and other negative emotions arise in conditions that breed negativity, historical moments seem to repeat themselves. Is it 1919? Is it 1939? is it 1968? Is it 1974? When will we have the next Katrina? Will we have another  9-11 soon?

Of course it is helpful to have historical markers—to remind ourselves and learn the lessons of History. We forget too quickly and assume that progress and evolution don’t have to be reinforced. Ignorance isn’t merely lack of acquisition of information and knowledge. It is lack of awareness. It is also a lack of inclusive thought. 

We don’t have to relive previous years in the next year. We have learned quite a bit about how to progress and how to persist to overcome the inevitable setbacks (and worse). We can use those historic markers to inspire bigger thinking. We have an even clearer picture of the threats and bile and just negative aspects of human nature (and Mother Nature) now. But we have always progressed by nurturing the best and creating anew. The regressive, negative aspects will always challenge us, but we don’t have to think like it’s the same year next time. 

It’s 2019!! Happy NEW Year! 

A Thousand Points of Light

“A Thousand Points of Light” will always be associated with President George HW Bush, and maybe more-so today, the day of his funeral. At the time he coined the phrase, I thought it was hokey, and I thought the initiative was one that was an attempt to absolve government from doing some difficult things. But, in retrospect, and especially compared to this current administration, “A Thousand Points of Light” seems quaint.

I have been thinking of “A Thousand Points of Light” not only because of Bush 41’s funeral, but because on the eve of this funeral day, Bob Mueller’s eagerly anticipated memo regarding Michael Flynn’s sentencing was released, and I believe it contained a thousand points of light, despite all the blacked out redacted parts.

The immediate reaction to the memo included the commentary about how much was blacked out; that little was left to read. Upon further examination though, it became  clear that Flynn’s cooperation with the U.S. government was extensive and illuminating (even if we are not yet privy to that information). 

In this season of festivals of light and giving, so important to warm and brighten the cold dark days of winter, we are reminded of “A Thousand Points of Light” in a nearly perfect synchronicity of remembrance and anticipation. 

Isn’t that what December is?