August 17, 2020--In Plain Sight

Not hiding in plain sight, last week, without even having to listen closely, Trump told us why he is messing with the postal service:

To interfere with the gathering and counting of mail-in ballots.

This is an example of what political pundit John Heilemann calls Trump's propensity to either project or confess 

It is Trump's view that there is massive fraud when it comes to these ballots and claims, with a straight face, that he wants to insure that everything is on the up and up.

Is there a bridge in Brooklyn for sale?

The good news may be that he is shooting himself in the foot.

How so?

For example--if voters who want to make sure their ballots count change their minds about voting by mail and decide to do so in person, whose demographic--Trump's or Biden's--is more likely to be able and willing to wait in line for three hours to vote?

A 67 year-old white guy with a beer belly or a 32 year-old teacher who jogs five miles a day?

It may be for this reason that behind the scenes Mitch McConnell is pleading with Trump to back off. He knows mail-in ballots traditionally favor Republicans.

Mitch is right. Play on Donald.

June 9th Primary In Georgia

September 3, 2104--Back to School

"Slow down," Rona said as I raced up the Bristol Road to get to the diner before all the booths were taken. I hate having to wait for coffee. I'm spoiled when it comes to that.

"It's foggy and the first day of school so you need to be careful."

"I forgot about that."

"There'll be school buses along the road and kids waiting for them, disoriented because of their new schedules."

"You're right. And the fog is getting thicker." I slowed to 45.

"It is amazing, isn't it, how in small towns pretty much every student, from kindergarten through high school, goes to school by bus. What an organizational challenge that is. To make it all work. It's much more complicated than delivering the mail."

"Which also is impressive. About these we still know how to make things work."

"And how important rural mail and schools are to the local economy and the life of the country." Even without coffee we were getting philosophical.

The Bristol School by then was only about a mile ahead. Even in the thickening fog I had a sense of where we were and how far it was before we would get there and need to slow down yet more.

"Get ready to stop," Rona pointed to a looming yellow image. "There's a bus pulled over. I can just make out what appears to be a couple of little ones with their mothers. How I love it. It reminds me of my first day in school."

With that I flashed back to my own first day. Not a happy one for me.

"I loved school. Even from the first day," Rona enthused. "I didn't have very responsive or encouraging parents so to have success there, to have teachers thinking well of me was important to my coming to feel good about myself."

"I'm embarrassed to admit that I was such a mama's boy that I hated the idea of being without her for even a few hours. But ultimately I adjusted--actually, just after a few days in kindergarten--and like you found schooling to be affirming. So why am I getting a queasy stomach as we get closer to the school?"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Can you believe it, I think I'm having an anxiety attack. Just like on my first day. Actually, I felt this way every first day. The first day back after summer vacation. My stomach then, like now, was tied in knots. At least for a few hours or for a day or two."

"How many years has it been since you were last in school? Including graduate school? Could it be as many as 50 years?"

"I'm afraid so," I said, sighing. "I guises at heart I'm still a scared little kid."

Rona slid over to put her arm around me. I was shaking and beginning to tear up.

*   *   *

Later, at the diner, I shared some of this with friends and one by one they confessed to having some of the same kinds of feelings. Perhaps not as extreme as mine, but similar.

We agreed that these deep memories become quite hard wired, never really dissipating, and that they stay with us forever. They are that powerful. And even after many decades they emerge, reappear on mornings such as this.

"More coffee," I called out to Sue.

Willy said, "I think I need a drink."

July 30, 2014--POW/MIA

El Bohio, our favorite place in Florida for a Cuban breakfast, is right across the road from the Lantana post office.

Sipping my cortadito, I noticed that right below the American flag, the post office was flying the POW/MIA flag.

"Is that legal?" I asked, pointing.

"I'm not sure about the legality," Rona said, "The post office is no longer an official part of the federal government and so I don't know what rules they have to follow regarding flags."

"I don't know exactly why I'm saying this, but it gives me the creeps. Look at the image--a silhouette in black of a prisoner with his head bowed and behind him a guard tower and a string of barbwire."

"It gives you the creeps?"

"That's how I feel. I mean, I think this flag was designed and first flown during the Vietnam War when the North Vietnamese held many prisoners and certainly there were bodies of soldiers that hadn't been discovered or their remains expatriated. But . . ."

"That was, what, 40 years ago and you still see lots of these flags all over. What's that about?"

"I don't know, but I know it's not flying in downtown Manhattan,"

"You hardly see American flags there. Somehow any show of overt patriotism to some--I hate to admit it, liberals and progressives--is considered suspect. Too pro-America. Minimally not cool."

"Remember how when Barack Obama was first running for president he was criticized for not wearing a lapel flag?"

"Or covering his heart when reciting the Pledge of Allegiance?"

"Or," I added, "excoriated by rightwing extremists for not saying 'under God' during the Pledge."

"Crazy. Since there are lots of videos of him saying just that."

"So that's in part why the POW/MIA flag agitates me."

"And what's the other part?"

I thought for a moment. "You know, I don't know."