About a week after this past
US election, a very close friend sent me a quick note of sympathy/empathy on
how it had turned out. He and I have batted (among others) issues of politics
and American "culture" for many, many years… always from the
comfortable left of center.
I still consider myself left
of center, even having voted against the Democratic ticket, this time around;
more on that momentarily. Suffice it for now that my vote had been a vote
against, rather than a vote for.
In fairness to the honesty
he's always dealt with me – and which I hope I've mostly lived up to, these
many years – I shared with him how I'd voted, sensing keenly that he'd view it
as a bad choice, and/or a lousy rationale:
Oh, man; you
are not going to like this, my friend.
I absolutely
agree with anyone who's got brains, that Trump is an arrogant jerk,
underqualified, underequipped, with the intellect of Bush Jr. and the ego of
Cheney… and the morals of Anthony Wiener.
I also voted
against Hillary. I expect to get major heat from closest friends, and my
family… but everything I value most made it utterly clear I could vote no other
way, not and be true to my faith and those values, and to Him who made me and
to whom I have enough to answer for already.
Below is a
chunk of an email I sent around the family last week. (Father Jake Hujus is a
childhood friend of brother Rich "Doc" and mine, from back-when; he's
now a very traditional, very orthodox, priest on the West Coast.)
(I tacked on the note I'd sent around my
family, shortly after the election, and continued.)
I haven't
heard word one back from any of them, even my conservative, Marine older
brother. That's okay; we're grownups now, more or less.
And you,
most valued of friends, you're welcome to bust my chops on this issue, but I
don't regret my vote for Pence – my vote was for vice-president; I squeezed my
nose so hard over his disgusting running mate that it nearly bled.
My heart
remains left of center, and if Hillary had had as much regard for unborn women
as she professes for walking-talking women, and also not been about trying to
shape my Church to match her viewpoints, I'd have been thrilled to color in my
ballot's bubble for her. I feel for her disappointed followers, and am very
worried about what stupidities the White House will soon be cranking out. It's
going to be a very rocky four years.
But there's
a very real chance this country may be able to put the brakes on some of its
more stupid, if not outright self-destructive, directions. And that, soon – to
quote Roger Waters – ,
"no one kills the children anymore".
One of the
things I've come to treasure most about my faith is that it challenges me,
rather than tells me I'm okay right where and how I am – if I wanted that, I'd
be a Unitarian, or a church-hopping protestant looking for the most
touchy-feely preacher.
Sometimes
it's a crucible over a strong flame… which is what's needed at times to burn
off some dross. And that can definitely hurt like crazy. Sometimes it's a cool
breeze of comfort, and always it's enfolding arms.
Thirty-five
years ago this month, I met a paralytic nun, Sister Paula, in Philadelphia
(well, Upper Darby). She was unable to move below the neck – I don't remember
why – and she was beautiful, especially in smile and word and spirit. In her
body cast, lying seemingly helpless in bed, she looked at me closely, and
asked, "Who are you?"
It's taken
me just about this long to answer her, at least in part – and I said it to my
family: I'm a Catholic who happens to be an American, and not the other way
around.
St. Thomas
More put it perfectly: "I am the king's good servant, but the Lord's
first." He was beheaded for that.
Regards,
A. Gene
Childe
I know your
works; I know that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either cold or
hot. So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out. —
Revelation 3:15-16
We absolutely all need
friends who don't hold back on us… and the response I got back didn't
disappoint. My friend's perspective on The Big Picture is always well thought out, and
strong, and truly sane. And he is even more skeptical and gloomy about these
next four years. Yes; I, too, am skeptical and gloomy and dreading, because,
again, I really don't like Donald Trump. He both disgusts and
greatly worries me; my vote was not for him, but against his opponent… because
I couldn't stand with her on abortion (and some other party-platform planks as
well; but abortion sealed it for me).
Again, my friend gave me
sound counterpoints in his response; this included casting his keen spotlight
specifically on my "I'm a Catholic who happens to be an American, and not the other
way around".
I strongly agree with his profound ire at American disunity: white American,
boomer American, southern American, and so on. I'm glad to be an American, and I'm
also ashamed at how shallow and, yes, disjointed we've become. My faith had
shaped my vote, but I haven't surrendered my citizenship… or I wouldn't share
in his gloom and dread.
I wrote back:
I don't
think Hillary's the monster and ogre the far right's portrayed her for the last
25 years. She'd have had my vote if she'd made the unborn baby at least as
valued as the spotted owl, say, or baby seal… and kept her platform out of my
sanctuary. Outside of those non-negotiables,
I haven't seen her degree of political – national and international –
experience on a major ticket in… maybe half a dozen electoral cycles. Sanders
has far better sense and objectives, but fewer mano-a-mano calluses.
When I first
started soapboxing about voters' responsibilities (2000), I stressed that at
bare minimum, we have to at least vote against… and like you, I did just
that. I was this close [pinch your thumb and forefinger together till
the nails turn white… now press harder] to voting third-party (probably Darrell
Castle, despite his hyperconservatism; he also wasn't on my state ballot), or
write-in (Santorum or Cruz). But it looked like it was very possible Hillary
would win, and that write-ins, maybe even third-party candidates, would be
lumped together and ignored.
There was no
one to vote for; so whom would I vote most needfully – and effectively –
against? And on what grounds? It had to be for Pence as VP, despite his
blowhard hate-mongering fascist running mate. I'm tired of human lives –
elderly, infirm, not-yet-born – being viewed as inconveniences (and organ
banks). Bruce Springsteen cautioned us some thirty years ago:
"the next time, they're going to be looking at you."
I suspect
that Germany felt much like this in 1932! This time 'round, the scapegoats are
Muslims and Hispanics (and nonconservatives); we're just lacking the hangover
of a couple years of nightmare inflation and unemployment. (I was looking over
some of my family's old German postage stamps a few minutes ago; I have a couple that were denominated at one
billion Marks.) And like docile lambs – lemmings, really – we've gotten
what our commitment to Short-Attention-Span Theater and the Kardashians and
their clones have convinced us we need… and in fact are getting what our
shortsightedness deserves.
Our
country's strength lay [note the solid past tense] in individual freedoms: not
kotowing to the crown, but instead determining our own destiny, and striking
out for it. From a handful of bickering colonies that managed to pull together
at the last minute, we coalesced ourselves into a single nation of strong
communities and solid values.
As our
borders opened wide and opportunities and expansive horizons beckoned, we
nurtured and awarded self-determination… though now more as pioneer families,
and rugged individuals. (And, yes, literally plowing over the indigenous
civilizations already here.) And there were great successes, great rewards,
great achievements, from the Golden Spike to the telegraph to the cotton gin…
Somewhere
just after World War I, our ethos deteriorated from self-determination to
self-focus and self-aggrandizement. The veterans of the Great War were kicked to the curb and
became a DC hobo- tent-city, and morphed into Fitzgerald's "lost
generation", soon given to swan dives off skyscrapers when the motivation
of obsessive self-focus at play in the economy pulled the whole country into a
shuffling unwashed breadline.
It took
Zeroes in the Hawaiian skies, and goose-steppers and their ovens, for us to pull
together once more and briefly become Brokaw's "greatest generation".
Notice how quickly, after the fallout had settled in Japan, we reverted to
self-fulfillment, and self-focus grabbed the wheel once more… and snipped the
brake lines.
Focus on the
family, and on the community, and on nurturing sound values and morals in our
children (and ourselves), fell by the wayside of our superhighways and
cluttered runways. Friendly front porches became cookie-cutter Levittowns, and
every neighbor was a stranger… and someone to keep up with and excel beyond. Me
first, my generation… I, me, mine.
Is it any
wonder that the children of that greatest generation decided to turn on, tune
in, and drop out? Notice how well that turned out, too. Their children now
have faces glued to teeny screens, and can't maintain a conversation, or even
spell.
Or elect a
good leader.
Mi amigo, we're
Balkanized. What's worse is that it's not along geopolitical borderlines, but
me-and-my-little-tribe… often a tribe of just one or two, sometimes sharing a
secret handshake with a neighboring tribe. Self is still enshrined, the only
national god.
Sanders
would have been great – I'd still have voted against him because of his
abortion stance, but would hardly have been dreading the four years following
on, had he won… not to the degree you and I both are.
Well, let's
batten down the hatches and grip the reins. Please keep your hands and head
inside the car at all times – and keep your elected representatives on a very
short leash… preferably choker-chain, spikes pointed inward. Push them, pull
them, prod them to do what we need them to do.
Oh, and
let's toss out the electoral college while we're at it. President Albert Gore
(2001-09) strongly agrees.
Regards,
A. Gene
Childe
The Lord takes
delight in His people, and honors the poor with victory. — Psalm 149:4
No comments:
Post a Comment