Longfellow’s quote encapsulates so much in my life right now. Yesterday thousands of Trump supporters gathered in Washington DC to express their contempt for the election results, which, from the words of their lord and god, were “rigged”, a word he’s come to use now, having replaced “fraud.”
From the Washington Post, “President Trump’s supporters had celebrated for hours on Saturday, waving their MAGA flags and blaring “God Bless the U.S.A.” as they gathered in Washington to falsely claim that the election had been stolen from the man they adore. The crowd had even reveled in a personal visit from Trump, who passed by in his motorcade, smiling and waving. ‘He drove right past me. I saw him. He waved right past me,’ one man said as he tried to collect himself.” On stark display in the nation’s capital were two irreconcilable versions of America, each refusing to accept what the other considered to be undeniable fact.
Two very large ships. One, 73,107,108, the largest vote for a President in history, was swamped by more than five million more passengers on the challenger, 78,662,259. And it’s not over yet. The ships pass, and “then darkness again and silence.” That’s where we take leave of the quote, for as long as Trump continues his tweets, claiming that the election was either rigged, rife with fraud, or stolen, the remaining “silence” will be both destructive and deafening. ************************************************************************************************************************** Last week I tried to have a conversation with Hawthorn. Knowing that he’s dealing with difficult issues—a breakup of his family, a forced transition between his home on Elm Court and ours, a stream of complaints shared to him by his mother about his father, he is confused, distraught, unhappy and vulnerable. One ship (me) tried to pass on advice that I had received years ago in a Mindfulness class, that “although we can’t control what happens to us, we can control how we respond.” Unfortunately this first ship added that Jadyne and I hadn’t signed up for this, we hadn’t chosen to share our retirement years this way, that this was something we couldn’t control, but how we responded was something we could control. Ship #2 ran downstairs, called his mother, and told her he wanted to go back to Elm Court. He interpreted what I said to mean that we didn’t want him and Hazel to come up, that we didn’t care about them, and in a text passed to Jason by his mother, “we didn’t care if he died.” Unwilling to come up for his three days this weekend, we thought we wouldn’t see him at all. Then, knowing that his friend Jake would be here, he came up Saturday night, and the two played in the open garage (because of Covid-19), a heater, lamp and muslin spread on the floor to give them some comfort, and then went to bed. He’s downstairs now, asleep, and we’ll find out later whether the rest is silence. Once the ships have passed, they’re still sailing, and course corrections are still possible. **************************************************************************************************************************Sometimes the ships don’t pass. Titanic, meet Iceberg. For the last several weeks I was the captain of a ship with a very long name—”I can’t talk to anyone about anything else but the election and how much I hate Donald Trump.” I recognize that there are a lot of people on this ship, but I was clearly the captain. And as blind as the captain was on the real Titanic, this captain failed to recognize the named Iceberg ahead, “Jadyne.” Jadyne was actually piloting the iceberg, which had a name, too. “I’m sick and tired of all the complaining that you do…you can’t talk about anything else…you aren’t any fun to be around, and if you’re angry because I’m criticizing you so much, it’s because I can’t take it anymore.” Wow! The whole iceberg was covered in paint. Fortunately, Jadyne climbed off the iceberg, brought along some Gorilla Glue, and patched up the ol’ Titanic clone, climbed on board and took control. The “ICTTAAAAEBTEAHMIHDT” (for short), has steamed on. The waters have calmed. The iceberg has melted.. **************************************************************************************************************************I have a friend named Anne Renfree. Her husband, a Santa Rosa obstetrician, would have delivered Jennifer had he been available when she made her appearance. He waived all his fees, as I taught his kids at Cardinal Newman HS, and he knew how poorly compensated we were. When Anne and John’s son Kevin was married in New Orleans John not only paid me to photograph the wedding, but he paid for Jadyne and me to fly to New Orleans, stay for a week, and join him and his friends for social events and dinners. Thirty-two years later, when Anne commented favorably on Sarah Huckabee Sanders, I knew I was in unfamiliar territory. Later I posted on FB a faux photo of a Trump tower in a prison, and she replied,
Concerned that I was losing a valuable friendship because of politics I wrote to one of her daughters who replied,
“David - Thank you for reaching out. First and foremost, I know that I speak for the entire Renfree family when I say that we hold you and Jadyne in the highest regard. Unfortunately, the political environment has become very polarized and there is no escape. You cannot turn on the tv, open a newspaper or participate in social media without being bombarded by strong, and often nasty, political attacks. We had two dogs in this race and had to hold our noses to vote for one of them. As for my mom, it did not turn out the way she had hoped. All I can ask is that you not take it personally and understand where the negativity comes from. I continue to wish you and your family peace and good health.”
There is a harbor to be reached.