October 22, 2019--Jack Sputtering

Jack, alone, was slumped in a booth, seemingly talking to himself when we arrived at the Bristol Diner. 

Rona poked me and mouthed that maybe we should leave him alone. 

She whispered, "I think he's unraveling."

"If he is then maybe we should sit with him."  She nodded and led the way. 

"What's up Jack? You seem all out of joint?"

"I'm sick of those assholes."

"Who might they be?" Rona asked.

"Senators."

"Senators?" I said, "All of a sudden you care about them? I thought all that interested you was your president."

"That's my point."

"I'm not following you," I said. "Though I assume you're bent out of shape about the Republican senators."

"You assume correctly."

"I don't see why you're so down on them," Rona said, "They've rolled over for him. They'd be among those who wouldn't care if he shot someone on Fifth Avenue. All they're interested in is covering for him so he doesn't sic his base on them. Primary them, for example. They'll do anything to get reelected and believe if they cover for him, if they look the other way he won't come after them."

"It may surprise you," Jack said, "that I agree with most of that. They're a bunch of slimy hypocrites."

"Of course they're hypocrites. But I'm not getting your problem with them. As Rona said they're protecting him. I assume that's what you'd want them to do. Protect him from the Democrats."

"My problem is that these senators don't care about him but only about themselves. They'd throw him under the bus if they thought they could get away with it. This means the protection they provide is very thin and that makes Trump vulnerable."

"From your mouth to God's ear," Rona said. "I am hoping, to be honest, that they do throw him under the bus. My fantasy is that Pence becomes president. As bad as I think he would be he'd be like a breath of fresh air."

"His own people hate Trump and that scares me."

"Hate him?"

"If you were a Republican senator . . ."

"What a nightmarish thought," Rona said.

"If you were a Republican senator wouldn't you hate him? I don't mean express that openly. No one in their right mind who wants to remain in the Senate or run for president in four years would openly criticize him. As I said, they depend upon him to get reelected. So they show support for him and he reciprocates. Talk about quid pro quo."

"But I don't get the hate part. Why do they hate him?"

"They, all senators from both parties think of themselves as being members of the world's most exclusive club. There are only 100 senators, and they pride themeless on their independence and like to pretend they're above the grimy fray. In their own minds they're statesmen and compare themselves favorably to members of the House where representatives are comfortable doing whatever their leaders tell them to do. For example, how to vote. Look at how powerful Nancy Pelosi is. If she says jump, they jump. These days she even has AOC under her thumb. She housebroke her. Pun intended."

"I'm with you so far," Rona said.

"So how do you think it makes senators feel when they find themselves jumping when Trump tells them to do so? Or when Trump's lackey Mitch McConnell tells them to jump? Not too good, right?"

"I imagine not," Rona said.

"If true, then, a whole lot of Republican senators are not feeling very good about themselves. They're not the independent-minded big shots they like to think they are. They're a bunch of lackeys too. And politically and psychologically that can be dangerous for Trump. It means support for Trump in the Senate is thin because it was coerced and therefore is ready to explode or collapse. If Romney or Lindsey Graham, both still wanting to be president like half the senators do, were to pull the plug on their support for Trump, his presidency could come crashing down. Again, because most of the Republican senators hate him for what he has turned them into. How he has diminished and humiliated them. They know he has contempt for them. He doesn't even make the effort to pretend to pay attention to them much less take them seriously."

"This is quite an indictment," I said, "Sorry, though, for the indictment reference."

For the first time that morning Jack smiled.

October 8, 2019--John Allan: Any Sense At All

John Allan said, "You make me sound smarter than I am."

We were having breakfast together at the Bristol Diner.

"You mean in the blog I wrote last week about Trump's Australian connection?"

"That's the one. I was the one who posed the question that got us going but you put words in my mouth. Not that that upset me. I liked the words and thoughts you assigned to me."

"He does that all the time," Rona chimed in, "He claims it's the way he gets closer to the essence of a situation."

"I didn't make stuff up the other day. You said almost everything I attributed to you."

"'Almost everything?' I'm not sure I see that as journalistic."

"It isn't," I said, "I'm not a journalist. I see myself as an essayist."

"What pray tell is that?" playing with me, John said.

"I know this will sound pompous but I seek the truth in things. Which means I often have to extract it from ambiguous and incomplete information."

"I get that," he said, "So tell me how that worked the other day when we were talking about Australia because it still sounds as if you make stuff up."

"First of all, you're not the best witness as to what was said, what even you yourself said. No one is. I mean about what they say. No one is a human tape recorder, capturing  exactly what they said. And then there are the subtle inferences that are often best communicated via body language and gestures and nods and winks. You're really good at the latter. You're about the best winker and shrugger I know. It's like a private language of yours."

"That makes sense to me, "John said, "And I do like that, but still I'm a little uncomfortable with your methodology. Particularly when it comes to me." He sent me a broad wink.

"Let me tell you a story--"

"Not another story!" This time John didn't wink.

"I know. I can be tedious with some of my stories. But I think you'll like this one. It's about finding truth in discourse. Though putting it this way makes it sound more profound than it is."

"Actually," John said, "this story sounds promising."

"It was told to me by a colleague and friend, Sir Claus Moser, who I worked with in some of the Ford Foundation's work with expanding higher education opportunities for low-income students. He led that effort for Great Britain but before that was head of development for the British Museum and before that was the secretary to the British cabinet. In that role, among other things, he was responsible for preparing the minutes of cabinet meetings."

"Where is this headed?" John asked, "I've got to get to the office."

"I'm almost done," I said. This time Rona rolled her eyes.

"He told me there are three ways to prepare the minutes. 'Since recoding devices weren't allowed, first, you can do your best to capture as precisely as possible exactly what members said. Then, you can do that and add a little editing. For example, to clean up the grammar and syntax. Finally, you can do what I did--write what members would have said if they had any sense at all.'"

"I do like that," John said. "And I take your point. Now I have to get to work."

May 24, 2019--Jack: Youngstown, Ohio

We were having a quiet morning at the diner when the door burst open and there, framed in it, grinning ear-to-ear, making an entrance was Jack. 

"Am I ever glad to see you," he bellowed.

I stole a glance at Rona, thinking, just what I needed. Now my morning is complete. 

"Yessiree. My two favorite Commies." He liked that and rolled with laughter. "But I still love you guys. Why, I do not know. But I do."

"I hesitate to ask," I finally said, "I know I'll regret it, but what's got you all jazzed up?"

"How you Dems are doing it again." Rona signaled for a heater of decaf and perhaps the check. She's had it with early morning political talk.

I said, "Doing what again?" Rona glared at me.

"Let me read it to you. From your New York Times. I have it with me. To quote it directly. From the paper of record. That's what you call it, right? I've been carrying this around for almost a week, hoping to run into you two."

He had plopped down on the banquette next to Rona and was searching for whatever it was in his pockets.

"I got it. I got it." He waved what looked like a newspaper clipping. "It's about what's going on in Youngstown. Ohio. Right in the heart of the Rust Belt. In Trump Country."

"You mean Biden Country," Rona said under her breath.

"That's a good one," Jack said. "It's never going to be Biden Country as long as he goes around denying our economy is threatened by China. Let me read something to you. From the Times." He squinted at the clipping. "I want to get this right so I quote--'On the campaign trail Mr. Biden has downplayed China's global economic threat. "China is going to eat our lunch? Come on man. They're not competition for us.'"

Jack made a face as if he was offended, "Saying these things in Ohio which has lost not just jobs to China but whole industries is crazy. He may in some ways be right, but politically this is a disaster. He expects to carry that state? Dream on. It could turn out to be his 'deplorables' moment. Remember that? I can see what he said featured in Republican TV ads."

I said, "It wasn't a politically smart way to put it. I'll grant you that. But the polls show Biden leading his Democratic rivals as well as Trump in Ohio and the other swing states."

"As I said, dream on. Let me read you what an Ohio Democratic strategist said before, out of frustration, resigning his position--

"My party has lost its voice to speak to people that shower after work and not before work. [I love that.] All we're saying is that Trump refuses to turn over his tax returns. He's saying, 'I'm fighting China to get you better jobs.' Trump's people don't care about his taxes--they just don't."

"But they care," I said, "about all the jobs that have been lost in Ohio. Including very recently, in nearby Lordstown. General Motors shut down its assembly plant and 1,600 good jobs were wiped out. On Trump's watch, after all his promises to save jobs and bring back manufacturing."

"OK but listen to what Democratic congressman Tim Ryan, who incidentally is running for president and represents Lordstown, had to say. Again from your favorite newspaper--"

Jack read, "The president is punching China in the face while the leading candidate on our side is saying China is not even an issue. If we go into the election with that as our message we'll get beat again."

I said, "As you pointed out, Ryan's running for the Democratic nomination and he is trying here to bring Biden down. To clear a path for himself."

"OK," Jack said, "So let me tell you what the vice president of the United Auto Workers union had to say. He's not running for the presidency by the way. Again, I'm reading from the Times."

With a hint of attitude, Rona said, "Glad to see you weaned yourself from Fox News."

Jack let that pass and read--

"The UAW vice president said--'Very few union members are abandoning the president even after the plant that made the Chevy Cruze laid off thousands of workers in three waves after Trump's election. I don't think these Trump people are going to flip back, even for Joe Biden, who has a lot of support in this area. I think they're dug in on Trump. Whatever happens, they're going to go down with the ship with him.'"

"Now finally that's something I can drink to," Rona said, raising her coffee mug, "Here's to Trump and his people together on a sinking ship." 

Trump Rally In Youngstown

May 8, 2019--Welcome Back

After 10 years in Maine we have come to know quite a few people. Some have become close friends.

Whenever we return for the long season in Bristol, we informally keep a list of who, among these wonderful people, we have seen--often casually run into in the diner or supermarket--and how long, how many days it takes to see most everyone we know.

This year we arrived on Sunday afternoon and by Tuesday morning had encountered twelve of our friends.

The first was Deb who owns and runs the diner. Among many things, she filled us in about what one of her daughters had done over the winter in a new restaurant or her own. Things were quiet, as is to be expected, but to push the bottom line and provide a community service, she served dinner Friday and Saturday nights. It was not a surprise, she is very talented, that it was welcomed and she did very well.

John was next. He came to the diner, among other things to see if we were there. He looked very well and has been busy after returning from a month in the Florida Keys at his globally-competitive steel fabrication business. He was happy to report that all in his large immediate and extended families were doing well. Especially his mother-in-law who had not been herself at the beginning of winter.

Al drifted in, also thinking he might find us. It was his birthday and he was happy to let Rona buy him a cup of coffee. She tried to treat him to a full breakfast but he had had something already and was wanting to control his eating and continue to lose weight. He looked slim and fit but wanted to keep it that way. So coffee was all he wanted, though he promised to let Rona pay for his biscuits and gravy (a dietary splurge) when he and Mary join us for breakfast on Sunday. We tend to meet them Sunday mornings for a week of catch-up news. Much of it this time I am sure, will be political as they are both politically engaged. In fact, Mary is a County Commissioner and prior to that had been Lincoln County's first female detective.

Barbara and Barrett were making their way to a booth when they spotted us and came to visit at our table. As with our other friends who we were seeing for the first time in six months they filled us in about how they have been (exceeding well) and how their children and grandchildren were faring. Again, we were happy to hear only good news. They were in for a quick bite as they had a tee time set at the local golf course. Though they have lived in Phoenix for 31 years they are as intrepid as if they were real Mainers.

We saw Phyllis and Danny as we were leaving. Always, generous, Phyllis told me she follows my writing and generally likes what I have to say. She is all graciousness and has the capacity to make me feel appreciated. She also reported that she and Bobby had had a good winter. 

Phil is quiet, perhaps a bit shy, but he did smile and wave when he noticed us as he headed toward the door. He did look exactly as we last saw him back in October, which in itself is good news.

Outside, Danny was all smiles and his dog Coco almost jumped out of the car window when he spotted Rona. She pretty much every day has a treat for him but even without one he is quite smitten by her.

Back in the car, sounding concerned, Rona said, "I wonder where Ken is. Don't you think he would have stopped by by now?"

"You know he doesn't come in every morning. I'm sure he's fine. If he wasn't I'm sure we would have known about it."

We headed to Hanniford's supermarket to begin the process of restocking the house. We needed at least one item from every aisle since when we leave in the fall we empty the house of anything that might freeze or otherwise spoil.

Before we could put anything in the shopping cart, from over by the organic vegetables, waving and smiling, were Deb and Mike. They moved from Virginia to Maine full time three years ago and last season bought a new house. We were happy to see them and eager to know how their first winter in the new place had been. Fine, they reported. They too have quickly become Mainers in spirit and vigor if not genealogy.

By the time we were finished shopping it was nearly 2:00 and we we looking forward to being back at the house and perhaps stealing a nap.

"Isn't it amazing," Rona said, "how whenever we arrive it only takes a day or two for us to see so many of our friends."

"Small town reality," I said. "I do love it."

Early the next morning, when we arrived at the diner John was already there and was holding two seats for us. He always makes us feel welcomed. We slid in across from him, but before we could even say hello, Deb the Waitress (as distinct from Deb, the Owner), who had overwintered in her mobile home in Florida, still full of boundless energy, raced to where the three of us were and in less than five minutes offered a summary of all the many things she had been involved with in Naples since we last saw her, including her work with organ donor organizations. She has boundless energy and enthusiasm for the many things with which she is involved. In earlier years, for example, she had been chief administrator for Portland's special needs children's' educational programs and is about the biggest hearted person anyone is likely to encounter.

And then Tuesday afternoon we ran into Joey, who had been a drawbridge tender and painting contractor for a number of years before meeting and marrying Jen. He was looking fit, having lost some weight over the winter and was feeling good about that. We agreed that having dinner together was long overdue and promised to do better this year than last.

As he was leaving (we were in the Dollar Store) he turned back to us and said, "I forget to mention that I ran into Ken the other and he's doing well. He knew you were back in Maine and said he'd be looking for you later this week."