Poison

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What does it say when you have trouble believing anything your government officials tell you—when you’ve lost faith in their competence, stopped trusting them to have your and the country’s best interests in mind?

I keep trying to get my head around what’s been going on since Donald Trump emerged from his gilded cave, and I should know by now that that’s an impossible task. He promised the world, but only so he could get elected and get back at people who he thought had done him wrong. People believed in him, thought he might be a breath of fresh air, and now we’re all stuck with the consequences of that gullibility.

The only saving he was gonna be doing was his own ass. Otherwise, he’s incapable of anything honorable or beneficial.

He’s hijacked the Presidency, turned it into a bad joke. Worst of all, he’s opened the door on the truly frightening cast of characters who have the distinction of intentionally trying to bring this country to its knees. Hateful and disillusioned scam artists who call themselves Christian, who prefer lily whiteness to any other skin color, who prefer living in isolation, and in the frontier days when nobody got a handout. The only people in their world who stand to benefit are… them. Everyone else is a dolt, expendable, a nuisance.

They have no grand vision, or at least one any sane, sensible person would willingly, knowingly align with.

Less noise, more in-the-flesh

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Daily writing prompt
Do you remember life before the internet?
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Yes. We seem to have gotten by just fine. Probably spent more time either outside or in front of the television, or just talking to people face to face. News came from the Big 3 networks– ABC, CBS, NBC– and maybe CNN or Fox. If we needed a fact, we looked it up in a book, an encyclopedia, or were more likely to head to the library. If we needed to talk to someone, we called them on a landline or dropped them a note in the mail. It’s not like we weren’t without options– just not as many.

I don’t think I’d want to go back, though.

How Far We’re Falling

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Some people—many people—never really get the chance to look up, to look around, to wonder—too much of a luxury. Many are too busy being shit on, scrounging for respect and a meal, while people like Donald Trump waltz around like they own the place, oblivious to need, lacking humanity, dripping with wretched excess and indifference. It’s hateful, the poster child for everything wrong with America right now.

“Indulge me with a military parade on my birthday,” he utters. Oh, yes, Supreme Leader, you shall get your wish, because there are enough sycophants and people who apparently only know how to follow orders to make that happen. This time around, Flag Day will be an homage to a despot, a conniving idiot, an empty-souled blowhard who somehow commands respect and expects obedience. Why? How?

It’ll be a sad, sad day. Nothing to be proud of, only embarrassed by.

Nondescript

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Daily writing prompt
What are you good at?
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I’ve been told I have a certain acumen for putting pen to paper, words on a page. Other than that, I’m not sure.

I could throw a baseball pretty hard for a while. I have some patience for doing painstaking work. I take good care of our yard, compose a decent photograph, play the accordion, sit at a piano and play songs by ear, none of which is particularly significant or lucrative, but provide some enjoyment. I have a knack for remembering dates and other little known facts of lesser known value, though that’s starting to fade a bit. When I was a pastor, people sometimes told me I had a non-anxious presence, which helped in certain situations.

Elusive

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Daily writing prompt
What does “having it all” mean to you? Is it attainable?
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As it is often portrayed in various media, it means nothing to me. It smacks of frivolous, material pursuits, artificiality, skewed perceptions of what’s important. A self-involved, distracted life, a neverending exercise in futility, or dominance.

On the other hand, I’ve heard people gush that they feel like they have it all when they get a clean bill of health or realize somebody loves them. So, it might be attainable in a subjective, personal way, as a matter of opinion.

More a feeling than a measurable standard.

Fugly

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What are the chances that enough Senators will grow a spine in time to deep-six the “big, beautiful bill”? Or will it be like most everything else we thought could never happen but eventually has?

It should be clear to anyone who hasn’t completely gone down the rabbit hole that Trump and the rest of the ogres and pretenders around him intend irreparable harm to the country. They’re boldly going to and have arrived at places where people have only tried to go before. They’re brainwashed, heartless caricatures of selfishness. They’re paranoid and oppressive, driven to establish a form of “governance” supposedly based on Christian values that benefits the few, enriches the few, and looks to cast everyone else aside or keep them in their place, whatever that means.

It’s not clear what Bible they’ve been reading.  

Non-linear

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Daily writing prompt
Who would you like to talk to soon?
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Maybe a college friend, or any of my siblings– so we can commiserate, check in, share feelings in the wake of our brother’s death not quite a week ago. We’re all still walking around in a fog, going through the motions, hoping to awaken from this bad dream.

Sentimental Value

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Daily writing prompt
Do you have any collections?
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Nothing of great signficance or monetary value, except maybe for a basketball signed by Bob Cousy, long after his playing days were over. Other than that, I have a box of memorabilia that I open every now and then, usually when we’re trying to put a dent in getting rid of stuff hanging around in the basement.

Just bits and pieces of my life– a popcorn holder from the first Red Sox game I attended at Fenway Park back in the early 60s, a moth-eaten pennant from a game we went to at Comiskey Park, between the Yankees and White Sox– a game Whitey Ford pitched, and in which Mantle and Maris were playing; an old magazine or front pages from the time of JFK’s assassination, and the Soxs’ first World Series win since Babe Ruth played for them– along with an empty Wheaties box with a picture of David Ortiz, and a glossy team photo from 2004. There are mementos from my trip to Philmont Scout Ranch, small rocks and other souvenirs from various places I’ve been over the years, ticket stubs from sporting events and concerts, along with several volumes of journaling I’ve attempted along the way.

There might be a small treasure trove in the top drawer of my bureau, just bits and pieces of stuff tucked in corners, under the socks and t-shirts.

Not just taking up space

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Daily writing prompt
What is the legacy you want to leave behind?
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I’d be lying if I said I didn’t give it much thought, but I figure at this point, any consideration of a legacy might have something to do with my time in the church. People might see and remember me through that lens, even though I myself view those years as mostly struggle.

I haven’t and probably won’t start any hospitals or foundations, haven’t set any records, written any books or music, or invented anything. I’ve led a non-descript life, by and large, trying but sometimes not succeeding in being an attentive husband and father, being unmoved by or lacking any motivation to nurture and refine certain proclivities, or to be remembered at all, and yet very much hoping that at least a few close family members will miss me when I’m gone.

I guess, in the end, if people remember me as a serious thinker who tried to have a sense of humor, that’ll be all I can ask, or expect.