Just a little more than usual
The thought of morning coffee, the state of American politics and the opportunity/challenge this presents to comment and write something insightful and meaningful, the prospect of hosting family for a visit and the plans we have for when they’re here, plans to travel and visit family, a plan to work on some project and bringing it to completion.
More simply stated… caffeine consumption, the unrelenting presence of Donald Trump, certain family get-togethers, and building something.
So, some—not all?—of the Epstein files will be released to Capitol Hill on Friday. This must mean they’ve had time to scour the pages and remove any hint of Donald Trump’s involvement.
Bondi and the rest must feel comfortable releasing these to a press corps hungry for some delicious tidbits. I wonder how much of each page will be legible.
As they come to mind:
–Hidden Figures
–Apollo 13
–Notting Hill
–Jaws
–The Sixth Sense
–Uncle Buck
–Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
–The Help
–Home Alone
–Forrest Gump
There are a lot of honorable mentions, and if I gave it more thought I’d probably be switching out some of the above with others. The only reason Schindler’s List and Life Is Beautiful aren’t on here is because I am repulsed by the depravity of the Holocaust, and graphic violence in general– don’t need those visuals. How to explain Jaws? Maybe a palatable mix of light and heavy, and because it’s fiction.
People are making choices– ICE agents hiding behind their masks and probably making good money, law enforcement, people in the military, members of Congress all kowtowing to traitorous demands. They can always rationalize that they’re just following orders, or saving their careers, or acting on behalf of their constituents. But in the current moment, this all seems a convenient ignorance, a selfish and inaccurate assesessment of the situation and challenges forced upon us by Donald Trump and the puppeteers pulling his strings.
What we saw in LA, what we’re seeing in Washington, DC seems irresponsible, cowardly, and unforgivable.
We’re getting a first-hand look at how fascists and authoritarians work, how they get a foothold and eventually access to the seat of power: they create alternate realities and scapegoats, they lie, they make empty promises, and offer only unattractive and seemingly untenable choices. They force us to make decisions most of us dread ever having to make. They force us to consider our stores of courage, or lack thereof.
Betrayal is the word du jour. There’s enough to go around.
I dropped my car off at a local repair shop this morning– time for the yearly inspection– then opted for walking home. I got some steps in, and was reminded of how noisy everyday life can be.
It was around 8am, so the hustle and bustle of a new day was unfolding. Lots of construction vehicles, several flatbeds loaded with modular housing making their way through town, the occasional car or motorcycle that needed a muffler or maybe intentionally modified to be inconsiderately loud. I didn’t check the decibel level along the way, but I’m betting it was at hearing loss levels at several points.
No other commentary, really, just making an observation about how rote things can get, how unremarkable things may seem from inside a well-insulated vehicle with the windows up. Walking the route one normally drives offers a different perspective, for several reasons– one being that it prompts one to consider hearing protection, though something short of noise cancelling.
Writing is a means of expression, bringing something that’s inside to the surface, a mirror of sorts. Sometimes it is a raw, emotional reaction, other times a more measured and thoughtful attempt at recording observations, feelings, and opinions. Perhaps more than anything, it is a delightfully unexpected connection with other people from all over the planet– I think– that I dream will lead to many waiting for my contribution to the Daily Writing Prompt and other entries. I’d be lying if I said the Likes and occasional comments didn’t mean anything to me.
Short of that, writing may always be the way I start each day– as an outlet, a habit and a discipline, as comfort and a way to focus. Writing, to me, involves a constant effort to refine a craft, to capture an essence, to find the right words, drilling to the core of how I’m seeing the world, and then putting it out there for others to react to.
Is the Trumpian universe ever going to catch on? Will there ever be a moment of clarity so unmistakable that they can’t avoid seeing the obvious? One might reasonably think that this would have happened by now.
Or are they already there but just can’t bring themselves to admit it yet?
Their guy is a snake, a fake, a propped-up gas bag whose only “superpower” is an ability to summon anger and file law suits. He’s a thin-skinned thug who apparently reveres and wants to emulate people like Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Un.
How can there be such disparity in how we view this guy? He can’t really be both savior and pariah. Is there that much distance between us, that we can be seeing some of the same character traits without arriving at the same conclusions?
He’s a mess, and the people who rooted for his election– who facilitated it– are all part of the same ruse, the same ill-advised, hateful, treasonous scheme. We can’t let them bring us down.
The landscape, our close proximity to a river, a small town feel, the temperate climate– though this summer has been annoyingly hot more often than not; places to walk, a few good places to have a meal out, access to all the usual retail merchants and major highways that can get us anywhere, and a small circle of friends and family.
Still waiting for someone to find his jugular. He’s always had a way of wiggling out of everything, leaving underlings to foot the bill, pay the price for his indiscretions and weakness.
Many are hoping “not this time.”
Maybe it is one long battle of attrition—the ugly con man living on, while decent people and young children die of cancer and all manner of shit this life can throw at us. It’s never seemed fair. One might think karma would have had a role in this by now, but maybe none of that stuff is real.
Or maybe the Epstein saga will come to a satisfying conclusion.
I guess love is running in the background, and joy is elusive because I spend too much time looking around at what’s going on in the world and wondering if we’re ever going to move beyond this penchant for hubris and mistrust and self-enrichment.
So, it might be a tie between gratitude and awe. Gratitude for my wife, children, and grandchildren, for sustenance and a roof over our heads; gratitude for anyone with sense and sensibilities, with a beating heart who cares about others, who takes life seriously and knows what they’re doing– whether it’s our family doctor, grocers and shelf stockers, people who build and discover things, elected officials at all levels. Anyone who diligently tends to their work and assures that the buses run on time, if you know what I mean.
And awe in the presence of so much mystery and beauty. Gotta make the time to look up, to ponder, because there’s a lot that’s still jaw-droppingly amazing.
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