Dark Days

Just a reminder, most of my writing is really done for myself, as sort of therapy and a way to organize my thoughts. That especially applies to this piece.

I’m not that tough. I haven’t had to be. My experience with (true) adversity has been minimal. Even events that were cataclysmic didn’t really affect me personally that much. In terms of grief, I think it’s safe to say I’ve had less than my share.

I try to be aware and empathetic, so I’ve never been ignorant of world events and how they impact others; I’ve never belonged to the Libertarian school of thought that says, “If it’s not MY problem, it’s not a problem worth society taking a role in solving.” 

I was in high school when President Kennedy was assassinated; I thought it was awful, but it didn’t affect me like some of my classmates (or my wife, whom I was a long way, in terms of both time and distance, from knowing at the time). I understood why people were upset at the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., but its only direct impact on me was relief that the class I cut wouldn’t count against me because the professor was so distraught he cancelled it. 

I legitimately failed my physical (which I took, no doctor’s note for me) after being drafted during the Vietnam War, and I darkly joked that for me to boycott classes after the Kent State massacre would have required I actually go to class. The floods in the district in which I taught were more impactful on my students than me. Student deaths are an unfortunate fact of life; I always tried to be supportive, but I felt far worse for my kids than myself. I knew that 9-11 was world changing, but I was always confident that we’d adapt and recover – and we did, even if such a recovery required redefining “normal.” 

I guess what I’m saying is that none of the above were really all that personal. Even my personal grief has been generally muted and not exactly tragic. Deaths of too young friends and co-workers were sad, but not devastating. The one unexpected death that I did grieve faded and didn’t resurface until well after the event itself, sitting with my wife having a drink, when the tears blew in like a summer storm. But like a storm, they, too, passed quickly and my life returned to normal.

But this feels different. This C-19 pandemic doesn’t seem like a temporary inconvenience, but more of a permanent upheaval in life as we know it, or at least I know it. Maybe things will truly get better, but at the moment I have almost no hope of an only slightly modified new normal, like 9-11. And I don’t feel well positioned to deal with it. Not tough enough, if you will. 

Part of that is based on my complete lack of confidence in the president of my country. I didn’t feel that way after 9-11. I’ve never felt this way, and I’ve lived under 11 previous presidents of both parties, 10 of whom I remember with some, if varying degrees of, clarity. I may not have been happy with the country’s direction or presidential leadership, but I viewed those administrations like I viewed some of the school administrators for whom I worked: “I’ll be here after you’re gone.” 

Congress, with its obsession on tribal victories, is only a little better. That toxic combo of presidential incompetence and irresponsibility and tribal, winner take all, congressional warfare, is just part of the problem, though. 

Another part, and related to my lack of confidence in the chief executive, is that mitigation compliance has become political, almost perverse. “If I support Trump, I must oppose any action to tamp down the pandemic. If I support Trump, attempts at mitigation are a plot against his re-election.” Interestingly this has even become a bit separated from political party; in Missouri there’s a protest planned against a Republican governor who was late to the party and an unenthusiastic guest but eventually joined in issuing a “Stay at Home” order.

Right now the disease is winning, even if far too many people are in denial, which threatens to make it even worse. I have little hope of a return to my comfortable, privileged life, and I, myself, am so much better off than people who are truly suffering, who have lost not just livelihoods but loved ones. For perhaps the first time since my early 20s, when I sort of enjoyed wallowing in negativity and angst, I am struggling to channel my inner Polyanna.

Random Thoughts: Senator Bernie Sanders & Various Other Political Stuff

• I have many friends and family who supported Senator Bernie Sanders. I respect the choice, process, beliefs, and values of these good, honest, hard-working, patriotic Americans whose reactions, right now, seem to range from denial to disappointment to despondency and despair, with End of the World (REM) as background music. Senator Sanders may have been at the bottom of my list, but I don't know of any followers supporting him out of a desire for “free stuff” for themselves. None. Zero. Not One. That’s an insulting fake news slander.

• 4 years ago, teaching American Gov’t and Politics at Lindbergh, I told my kids that Senator Sanders’ legacy would be the detoxification of the word “Socialist” for the next generations of young voters. I didn’t anticipate he’d try again, because I thought his window had closed. Turned out it had.

• However, had I known HRC would run such an abysmal, yet arrogant/entitled campaign (the arrogant/entitled parts were no surprise), I might have actually voted for Senator Sanders in the 2016 primary. Despite what some believe, I claim neither party, so I sat it out. Any palatable Republicans had been eliminated by the time of Missouri’s primary. (Bonus points – name the one I could have easily supported.) Two populists would have at least been interesting. 

• Full Disclosure: I would vote for the dish sponge we forgot to rinse out before leaving on our last trip before I’d even consider casting a ballot for the current occupant of the White House; at least the sponge could be cleaned up and made useful. And whether cleaned up or discarded, the dish sponge wouldn’t be dangerous – and maybe smarter. 

• By the time Missouri’s primary rolled around this year, all of my favored (Democrat) options had also been eliminated. So, given my choices, I went with Biden, because while a President Sanders doesn’t particularly frighten me, Candidate Sanders is, in my view, more worrisome. But who knows, maybe the Democrat Party would also turn out to be cowardly sycophants* were he to win (although I obviously didn’t like his chances of defeating President Trump; neither did Putin and the Russians, apparently).

• Why should it come as any kind of surprise that Democrat-identifying voters would want a nominee who is, you know, a bona fide Democrat and party member? 

• Didn’t Senator Sanders have four years to actually join the Democrat Party if he wanted to be its standard bearer? I respect that he was standing up for principles, but you can’t reasonably object to the cost of doing so. It’s like committing an act of civil disobedience and then complaining when you get arrested because you’re on the side of the angels. 

• Sanders supporters also might want to consider that, just because they are passionate about their candidate, maybe, just maybe, he didn’t get cheated as much as failed to stir those same feelings in enough of the voters who chose to participate in the Democrat Party nomination process. To imply otherwise is kind of insulting.

• Joe Biden is going to be the nominee of the Democrat Party. Respected non-partisan pollster Nate Silver of 538 puts his odds at >99%, followed by None and Sen. Sanders, in that order. Voters will, essentially, need to choose between Joe Biden and Donald Trump. Sanders supporters will not be the first, nor, sadly, the last, to have to hold their noses when they vote. Sitting out, writing in, protesting or choosing a third party are votes for the incumbent. If it’s a matter of principle, do what you must. Just remember, as Senator Sanders himself learned, those principled actions have consequences. Well, not in Missouri, because your vote, if it’s like mine, doesn’t really count. I’ll cast it anyway, though.

Other political observations, not always new

• True believers and ideologues make me nervous. Having spent more than a few years as a true-believer, I understand better than most how those kinds of blinders work. I like to think I was more pragmatic than most true-believers, but I also recognize that not everyone would agree. (However, as evidence, I offer one of my favorite smh compliments from a dear friend: “You’re the sanest gadfly I’ve ever known.”)

• Trump supporters who want attack perceived character flaws in Joe Biden might want to remember they live in glass houses – stained glass, not plexiglass. They forfeited that argument four years ago and I’ve seen no improvement since, except that his adulterous and lecherous proclivities have probably been more restricted lately.

• I wonder how many people who claim to be embarrassed by Trump, or excuse themselves with “I don’t like him but…” bothered to cast a protest vote for one of the other candidates in the Republican primary? (about 5% apparently) It’s not like his nomination is in doubt. Some state Republican parties even cancelled their primaries altogether. A free chance to make a statement. I no longer get his so-called surveys, so my “spitting in the wind” response days are over.

• Do partisan political memes make ANYONE feel better, besides you, maybe? Are they helpful in a time when we need to be pulling together? Do they provide real information? Can you recognize a rhetorical question?

• Finally, political parties do not exist to help people. They do not exist to help you; they do not exist to help me. That is a truth that crosses party lines, both Republican and Democrat. Their prime directive is the accumulation and consolidation of their own power. If the last four years haven’t amply demonstrated that, you’ve been distracted by the unfortunately unscripted reality show playing daily. Any benefit that comes to people, including their individual members, is merely a happy coincidence.

* The Republican Party kowtowing (oooh, irony) to seemingly every Trump whim and whine makes me wonder if the spelling should be changed to “psychophant.”