September 6, 2017--Jack: Trump's Two Faces

I hadn't seen Jack in what felt like weeks. And then on Tuesday, when we arrived at the Bristol Diner, sitting in his favorite booth, he was all smiles.

"So, how you been?" he bellowed. 

I wasn't ready for all the energy he was exuding or all his good cheer. I knew we would inevitably get to talking about Donald Trump and I wasn't in the mood for that either. Hurricanes were on my mind and, if you pushed me, North Korea. What with their recently claiming to have exploded a hydrogen bomb and us with an embattled president who lacks impulse control. 

I ignored him and headed for another table. Rona poked me in the back as if to say, if you let him get under your skin, he wins. Wins what? I wondered.

But, resigned, with a shrug, I turned toward Jack and slid onto the bench opposite him. Deb had already brought me a cup of half-caf coffee.

Without preliminaries, he said, "It looks as if you've given up on my boy."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, but it seems like a month since you've written anything about him. You appear to be obsessed with this audiological business and other irrelevant stories. I can't believe . . ."

"You may not believe me," I grunted, "But a lot of people seem to like my irrelevant stories. Especially the ones about my audiologist." I started to get up to leave, but, under the table, Rona pulled me back into my seat.

"This is hard to believe," he said, "But I sort of believe you." He grinned at me.

I couldn't resist and said, "Why are you so euphoric? You think things are going well? Half of Trump's people have either resigned or are about to. I doubt if chief-of-staff Kelly will stay on for more than another month and secretary of state Tillerson will not be far behind. So you think if things deteriorate further with North Korea your so-called boy has the finesse and temperament to handle the situation? I really believe we're close to a big-time war with them. Maybe with nukes. Nukes deployed by both sides. I can't understand how you seem to feel so bouncy."

"Trump's got everything under control. With need someone with his cojones to handle Kim whatever-his-name-is. You'd rather have your Obama dealing with this? Or Bill Clinton, of, for that matter, Bush? Either one of them? They're a bunch of wimps who had nearly 30 years between them to deal with this. If they had done something years ago do you think that crazy, fat fella would have such an arsenal?"

"It looks like you've moved on from what we talked about a few weeks ago. Charlottesville and Trump's cozying up to the white supremacists. When you told me that weepy story about your father in the Second World War and what he came to feel about the Nazis after seeing the Buchenwald concentration camp, I suspected you were shedding crocodile tears."

"Unfair," he shouted, "The Nazis are disgusting. They're animals. Including the ones here in America. But not everything is about Nazi this, Nazis that. Things are also about the economy, immigrants, the infrastructure, and, yes, North Korea. Tell me the truth, do you care more about the neo-Nazis or North Korea?"

I thought about that for a minute. It was a fair question. "I care about both," I finally said, "but more about North Korea."

Jack just smiled at me, rocking back and forth on the seat.  

I tried to pivot, "You really think he's up to handling all of this? The Russia probe by Mueller is clearly heating up and the noose is getting tighter around Trump's neck. Forgive the image. A lot of that was pushed out of the headlines because of the hurricane in Texas, but it's festering and I am sure the closer it gets to Trump the more scared he's becoming. One way to make even Mueller irrelevant to what you call the liberal media is a big war with North Korea. I confess I'd then turn all my attention to it and hope for the best, even with this president."

"Glad to hear you're so patriotic," Jack said.

"North Korea is a big problem. A very big and dangerous one. And, to tell you the truth, I don't have good ideas about what to do, how to proceed. I don't think anyone else does either. It may come down to war. Sometimes, when all else fails, and it looks as if that may be in the process of happening this time, war becomes the best option. We can't just let things proceed. Our technical people said it would be a few years before Kim would have functioning ICBMs that could reach our west coast and years more before he would have an H-bomb. But it looks like they're wrong and he may already have both. So I don't want to be glib or ideological about this. Trump is our president, and though I hate that, it will be up to him and whoever he listens to to decide what to do. I hope there are a few decent options available that we don't know about."

"Now I'm depressed," Jack said, "I was feeling so good until you arrived."

"We come here for coffee pretty much every day so our showing up should be no surprise. And, for the life of me, I still don't understand why you were so pumped up. Maybe, considering all the messes Trump continues to make you're more hysterical than euphoric and you're putting on a show to cover up what you're really feeling--that he's a disaster."

He smirked.

"And, in fact," I continued, "I've written quite a few pieces about him. Especially considering his various about-faces after the nightmare in Charlottesville. Which, by the way, seems like a pattern to me."

"A pattern?"

"Yeah, how Trump is frequently two-faced when it comes to situations like Charlottesville. How when he speaks off the cuff he gets himself in trouble with most of the media, including at times even with Fox, and much of the public. And then a day or two later he tries to clean things up and, tightly scripted, revisits the story and tries to pave over his true feelings. I'm coming to conclude that he does this semi-intentionally. To literally have it both ways--red meat for his base and seeming reasonableness for others."

Jack sat there not saying a word. Collapsed in the banquette, he looked exhausted. His ability to ignore unpleasant truths about Trump no longer working.

I added, "Even how he dealt with the hurricane was a version of the same thing--first he shows up and speaks extemporaneously, forgetting to mention the victims of the storm or even visiting an area that was struck by the hurricane, commenting about one of his obsessions, how big the turnout was for his visit. But then a few days later, using the teleprompter, he delivers much more measured and appropriate comments. But we know from this two-facedness what he really feels. And it's not attractive."

"I'm ready to order," I said to Deb. She had been hovering close by to listen in.

Jack roused himself, "All the stuff you're focused on doesn't mean a thing. Remember, you heard it here, it's now all about North Korea and you'll be thankful soon that Trump is your president." He resumed his grinning.

"Unlikely, but for the sake of the world, I hope you're right. And by the way--you're sort of right. I have been writing a bit less about him. He is so outrageous in almost everything he does that it's hard to keep up with him. To have the stamina to pay attention, think, and deal with it. I'm suffering from Trump fatigue. Another thing I'm sure he's enjoying--how he seems to be able to silence his critics. He simply wears us out."

Jack, with a sly smile, slid out of the booth, leaving money on the table and headed for the bathroom. It's right by the side door and I wasn't expecting him to return.

Jack, Rona and Steve @ the Bristol Diner