I remember going to the beach– the squawk of the gulls, the smell of the air, seeing the expanse of nothing but water all the way to the horizon and being impressed with that every time. It was somewhere in Rhode Island, occasionally in New Hampshire. We’d load up the station wagon and camp at a state park that was close enough to the ocean to warrant a visit.

I most likely got sunburned. That happened a lot. So, out would come the Noxema when we got home.

I have to say that the mountains get my pick, though. I spent a fair amount of time in New Hampshire every fall during my teen years and beyond, climbing in the White Mountains. I had the opportunity to get to Philmont Scout Ranch, in Cimarron, NM, where we hiked for over a week in the Sangre de Cristo range of the southern Rockies.

After I was out of Boy Scouts, sometime in the Fall, we’d still make it a point to go with my Dad and some guys from the troop and drive to New Hampshire and climb another four thousand footer or higher– Moosilauke, the Franconia Ridge, Osceola, Garfield, Washington. We made three attempts on Washington and got to the summit twice– the weather can be iffy in the Presidental Range, especially on Washington.

There was something about the ascent. It was work, no doubt, some serious exercise. But it was also the comradery, the scenery, the quietness, the often other-worldly views from the summits, where we’d sit and ponder and sometimes eat our lunch. There was a sense of accomplishment, of modest conquest, and an always-deepening appreciation for the size and magnificence of the planet.

At the end of the hikes, sometimes we’d return to a campsite, but in the later years, we’d make the 4-plus hour drive from central Massachusetts, do the hike, and turn around and drive home the same day– always a full day, well spent.

*Daily Writing Prompt

Why are people fleeing America? Well, people of means, anyway. Where are they gonna go where they wouldn’t ultimately be affected anyway by whatever transpires in another Trump administration? This seems like an extreme reaction to our current circumstances.

Do they feel threatened in some way? Are they worried about being victims of the Trump retribution he hints will be coming? Or is it more that they just don’t like the prospects of living in a country run by amateurs and fascists, and they have a lifestyle they need to maintain?

The flip side of escaping is that they look like cowards, like they’re skipping town without giving thought to staying put and being part of whatever restoration might be called for. Just lookin’ out for their families, they’ll tell themselves.

We’d all love to live in peace and safety, but some sort of shit is liable to hit the fan, no matter where they decide to run to. Might as well stay here and be part of the resistance.

It’s tough having to use that “r” word in reference to our elected leaders. Maddening, too. But here we are.

A fourth grader who pays attention to what’s going on in the world could probably predict that hostilities are going to escalate in Ukraine. When Biden gives the OK to use long range missiles on Russia—after Russia employs North Korean troops, of course—then the Kremlin lowers its threshold for nuclear engagement, how long does anyone think it will be before some form of hell breaks loose?

We’re all getting front row seats to the next global round of insanity.

The people of Ghana have every right to be miffed. All the detritus that gets shipped to its shores? Cars no one wants, computers and all manner of electrical waste no one wants, clothing no one wants.

Looks like a lot of it ends up in Accra, to be sorted through and burned and salvaged and then dumped in the Atlantic only to get washed back up on shore.

It does provide income for people, but let’s be real: it’s unimaginably hazardous and wasteful, we’re engaging in thoughtless consumption and over-production, and there are no more places for our stuff.

Costs of all kinds are outweighing benefits, and who really appreciates living in or near a landfill?

Dr. Oz for CMS, another Fox personality for something else, and all we can do is watch. Half the country gets to hold its breath and its nose as the Heritage Foundation assembles the most ridiculous class of nominees in the history of nominees.

It’s hard to see how these people are going to usher in the change that voters, supposedly, are hoping for– unless this change is not actually change at all, but rather decomposition, destruction, and chaos on an unrivaled scale.

Put ass-kissing amateurs in high-profile, challenging posts, and you’ll get the unraveling you’re looking for, without any regard for the people who will be hurt. And if an unscheduled and unwarranted Congressional recess is somehow pushed through, then there’s no telling what else is gonna get thrown out with the bath water.

How is this any good at all? What is the ultimate goal of Vance and Yarvin and Miller and Roberts and the rest? And why do they get to decide? Who the hell are these people?!

Trump? He’s a spineless marionette. And it’s looking like the rest of us are being played for the same thing.

WTF, America?   

Matt Gaetz, Tulsi Gabbard, RFK, Jr., etc. All purposely shocking picks.

It’s one thing to promise a shake-up, but we need to be aware that this shake-up—this “change”—is all in the service of having the right sheep in place so Trump can move about freely and be the point man for a larger movement’s intentions.

What we see happening, in one sense, is truly remarkable. Anyone with ears to hear was told about the Heritage Foundation and the influence it’s had on Republican politics. What we see now is its plan apparently taking shape, coming together.

They most certainly have anticipated resistance from Democrats, and the exposed Trojan Horse is poised.

I’m beginning to think that Trump voters used inflation and the pocketbook as an excuse—they actually like the idea of a dictator, as long as he’s their dictator who has their interests in mind and doesn’t run them over, too.

Well, buckle up, buttercups. Chances are it wouldn’t work that way.

To hear Rachel Maddow tell it, we’re watching a slow-motion car wreck. There’s an air of inevitability. The Republicans, unless they develop a spine, are going to appease their supreme leader and let him get all his WTF appointments while Congress is on an unscheduled, i.e. suspiciously timed—forced—recess.

Maddow views this as a test—Trump will demand that the House and Senate scoot out of town, first and foremost just to see if they’ll do it. Then he’ll know a bit more about any resistance to the Project 2025 plan, and he can make numerous recess appointments.

This is being said out loud. Everyone is familiar with the script. It’s merely now a matter of whether or not everyone follows it.

One has to hope that they won’t. The Dems still have time to do what they can to Trump-proof things—or is it more Heritage Foundation-proof—before January 20. We’ll see how much they can get to, and if it even matters.

There’s something to be said for having an expansive vocabulary, along with the style and know-how to put it all together, weave a tapestry of well-placed words and phrases that get down to business.

This would come in handy when trying to plum the shallow depths of Donald Trump. It’s too easy to just go off on him and utilize the usual reactive verbiage that makes one sound as ignorant as he is. I feel like this is what I do most of the time.

I wish I could speak in more measured tones when it comes to Trump, but when I read an article in which someone is trying to do that, attempting to be more reasonable and balanced with their language, I find myself wishing they were somehow less disciplined and more colorful. The sweet spot might be a combination of restraint and intensity, yielding cutting commentary that leaves the reader wanting more.

Trump somehow continues to evoke such raw emotion that I sometimes find it difficult to get the words down fast enough, and I end up saying things that could be said in a more concise manner. Oh well… this is our lot when someone like Trump finds ways to hang around and force himself into every conversation. He’s an omnipresent bore and someone who infuriates, because he can’t get enough of himself.

And maybe this is what’s so frustrating– he seems to be able to take any kind of attention and convert it to energy.

Maybe we should just start ignoring him.

They don’t like the guy, but they voted for him, because they thought he would do a better job than Kamala.

Because he’s a guy?

Basically, the only thing I’ve learned about politics over the years is that candidates will say just about anything in order to get votes. Trump has elevated this tactic to a whole other level, mixing in his “folksy(?)” shtick with a particularly galling brand of ignorance and coarseness that, apparently, many find endearing and… real?

It’s worked the opposite on me. I can’t listen to or watch the man anymore. I long ago saw and heard all I needed to see and hear. Trump has given himself permission to spew the venom that others write for him, while he, unplugged, is a sad excuse for such a high-profile leader when it comes to uttering anything of import and substance.

It’s really all one can expect from someone who’s no student of history, someone who doubles down on his ignorance and wears his hubris like a favorite suit.

The over-arching question when the history books are updated should be, “How on earth did he get so far?”

*Mr. Barnum, or whoever said it

Coffee, quiet, and the opportunity to write.

These are the things I treasure about my morning routine. After all the years of doing this, I still think it’s the allure of caffeine that gets me out of bed in the morning, though the chance to express myself runs a close second.

What I write means little to anyone but me, but it feels good to move thoughts from brain to keyboard. I wish, though, that my command of the English language was showing signs of…  signs of what?!  

The process of brain to keyboard seems to be getting interrupted more than it used to.