No More Duh


Many of us anti-Trump people are Unfriending Trump enthusiasts on Facebook. Here is one more story about that, one more shining of the light of personal truth, among our many lights.

Last night on Facebook I took the seemingly easy step of Unfriending somebody because of a Trumplodyte post she’d made. It was my first time to Unfriend for this. Afterward I had to figure out why that post triggered me, when there have been so many others that were offensive, from so many other people, which I just scrolled on out of sight. Also I stopped to think what this might mean in my future: UnFriending this person, and others as time goes on.

What my ex-Friend had done was re-post a snide piece about Rosie O’Donnell. It sneered and cheered because Rosie said she will leave the US instead of living in the Trump regime. The post was in the class of butt-ugly and dumbass. I typed a brief Comment saying I didn’t want to see this kind of person-directed hatred on my Feed and that I was Unfriending. Period. I did not say, “I’m sorry but…”.  Then I moved to the Friends section and did the click that severed the tie.

Does an Unfriending on Facebook necessarily signify an overall unfriending of the person? For me it does. I am pretty much all-of-a-piece, I think is right to say.

This ex-Friend had been in my life, about halfway out from ground zero, for 40 years. From day one we had innately liked each other. We were in-laws in the past, and our mild fondness continued after the family relationship ended; well, not completely ended because there are secondary ties, the other people we each relate to and are literally related to, who are important to both of us.  I will need to take into account that those people may sooner or later become aware I cut this tie, and that that may be awkward for them. They may even feel they must choose sides, although I will not make it so.

So this was not just some ole’ somebody I clicked out of my life. And she was someone I’d never have guessed would post hateful messages on Facebook. Which says something about my cockeyed optimism, or whatever this trusting thing is I was born with that leads me every time to assume a person is whole and wholesome simply because they are fun and have not yet done anything to hurt me.

It was not even my ex-Friend’s own post, it was a re-post, and that is a part of what I refused to tolerate. She’d just gleefully jumped into somebody else’s mud puddle with them and started slinging. If she had been acting under the stimulus of her own thoughts, and had said what they were, I would probably have kept her in my life. I now sorrowfully realize that she does not do original thinking; and because of that, I know better than to trust her. I know it would not stop with Rosie. She would stand together with them while they burned me at the stake or sent me to the ovens for being a witch, or a dyke, or a heretic, or an “anti-American”, or for “treason”, or whatever they came up with.  She would not believe this if I said it to her, but it’s true.

So. Reality. That’s that. I’m going on as a somewhat changed person.

Beware. Beware.






We will sooner or later have to explain it to the children: America has elected for its President a man who openly disdains truth. And that he lies is the least of it. His behavior when his lies come to light is that he needn’t acknowledge or remark about them per se, as if perfidy is common to all and so everyone will understand and accept it. Also absent from his behaviors are kindness and honor, which are in the family of truth, and he makes no apology for that either. It’s worse than that he lies: he makes a point of lying. This man is abnormal. But even that is not the worst of it, here is the creepiest thing: his voters are meekly accepting without protest that he deliberately lied to them to get their votes, and they still want him. Knowing he never intended to do what they elected him to do, they still want him. THIS IS NOT NORMAL, I tell you. Beware. Beware.






Being Better Than We Actually Are

football“Sometimes you just have to be better than you actually are.” A football announcer said that tonight about a Green Bay player who made a good run even though it isn’t his job to carry the ball.

I more than liked what he said, I felt at home inside it. All my life I’ve sometimes been better than I actually am.

That’s a paradox: I am at the same time this, and also that. I am sometimes just plain old doubting yes-butting me and simultaneously the one who takes the higher road.

Paradoxicalness is a characteristic of The Divine. My personal experience of The Divine. And I’m not saying I’m divine, I’m saying that I sometimes see that this aspect of The Divine has displayed through me.

My country, The United States of America, has historically been paradoxically better than we actually are. Often enough, we have. Somehow we have outdone our lesser natures, our primitive-brain natures shouting at us, “Them or us” or “There won’t be enough” or “Kill the weak, for they will weaken us!” Or whatever. We have brought ourselves up in our laws and at least our outward behaviors, above the demands of the cells in our own brain stems, step by grinding step, sometimes bloody steps, above slavery, women’s disenfranchisement, racial segregation, denial of some (some!) civil rights, the common acceptance of discrimination against minority populations, and the common regard of women’s bodies and souls as belonging to men.

To my eyes, The Divine has displayed Itself in The United States of America. We have come a long way, and we have a long way to go. I am not willing to give an inch to backwardness. We are better than that.


Photo credit Wikimedia Commons

One of the Lights

I’ve thought a lot about the ordinary citizens of Hitler’s Germany: what it was like to watch fascism appear, and grow. And then what it was like to live immersed in it, like it or not, like lobsters in the pot (If you haven’t read All the Light We Cannot See you might want to.) A lot of those German people couldn’t believe that the outrageous thing suddenly on their doorsteps was a monster. They couldn’t grasp the menace of the regime that was growing everywhere like a spore-spewing fungus in the minds and souls of their loved ones and friends.

I’ve wondered what I would have done if I’d been there. Could I have realized the import of it? Would I have spoken up? Would I have shut up? Would I have left the country? Would I have succumbed to the pressures and the fear, pretended to myself that the monster was not a monster, and by default let myself be counted as Nazi? I can only hope not that. But I don’t know.

Those German people of my parents’ and grandparents’ generations didn’t have any precedent to compare their situation to. Or rather, they had no example near enough in history, or similar enough, to make use of. Hitler took them by surprise, more or less.

We do have a precedent. We have them. Hitler’s pomps and works happened, beginning to end, in my lifetime. That’s almost unimaginable if you think about it. Unimaginable, almost.

And so, no, I don’t know what I would have done if I had been there then, but I know what I will do here and now. I will be one of those who speak up and shout out. Again and again and again and again, however long it takes or until I’m dead, whichever comes first. (I am 78 and I would like to see this one out, though, know that.) I will light my light and keep it lit, and jump up and down with it and yell and wave it around, and be one of the many many lights.

Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons. Picture created from Hubble Telescope images.