Two Men and a Flagpole

When my husband was in junior high and high school, he used to go to summer camp. His first years he went as a camper; later he returned as a volunteer leader. Sometime early in his camp experiences, he came to realize that something was missing. He watched each morning as camp leaders hoisted the United States flag up the flagpole, and each night as the flag was taken down. Most other campers were scurrying about, trying to grasp the last slivers of daylight. Silent he watched, knowing. The next summer he returned with his two-tone trumpet his parents had purchased for him, and he played “Taps” every evening as the flag came down. A tradition was born, and he played the bugler role for many years.

Many decades later, when my husband and I first met, I understood him to be a lawyer who had worked around government for most of his career. And he knew me to be an elected local government official. Politics never entered our thoughts nor our conversations. We both did a lot of bi-partisan work and were well versed in compromise, finding common ground, and negotiating. Over time we realized our core philosophies were the same—work hard, do the right thing, treat each other as you want to be treated, watch out for the less fortunate, help others whenever you can. We are both fiscal conservatives. We both believe government should only do what the people cannot do for themselves. And we both have a deep love of our country. We fell in love before we forgot to ask each other how we vote. Shocking statement, I know.

Every time I go into a voting booth, I choose the candidate who most closely aligns with my beliefs. Nine times out of ten, it’s a Democrat. My husband, on the other hand, will never EVER vote for a Democrat. Well, I think if he had lived in the district when my name was on a ballot he would have voted for me, but alas, we’ll never know.

These last few months have challenged our relationship in ways I never expected. At first, I laughed out loud and teased my husband. “Did you hear…?” I would ask with each new shocking projectile that came out of Donald Trump’s mouth. My husband justified it by saying Trump was misunderstood or misinterpreted. We watched and listened to women called names, POWs disrespected, fallen soldiers condemned, and discourse on the size of Trump’s hands. Then the video ran of Trump mocking the disabled reporter. There’s no denying that visual. “Trump was just teasing,” my husband said.

With each passing day, more and more surreal revelations led the evening news. I was in utter shock that such a prominent business man—a billionaire—could say such degrading things about women and get away with bullying respected party leaders. I couldn’t understand how the news media were so easily hypnotized and turned a blind eye to the things Trump was saying, not holding him accountable for any of it, allowing it because of the “bigly” ratings they were getting. To be fair, my husband watched with disbelief when more than one investigation concluded Hillary Clinton had not broken any laws. “Just wait,” he told me. “There will be an October surprise unlike any you’ve ever seen.”

Sure enough. October came in with the roar of a lion when Access Hollywood released its video. Not exactly the surprise my husband had predicted. I was livid, but for the sake of household peace I remained quiet. I was drawn to social media so that I could privately converse with my village. “WTF?!” many women screamed. “Why is this man allowed to do and say such deplorable things?” Unfortunately, I realized social media wasn’t for me. I discovered I was virtually “friends” with many women I had grown up with, went to school with, traversed life with, who are Trump supporters. Even in the shadow of the pussy-grabbing video these women unabashedly continued to support a man who has repeatedly verbally abused, bullied, and sexually assaulted women. My former high school classmates had previously ridiculed Hillary for standing by Bill after his affairs. And yet, here they were praising Melania as she stood by her man.

How did we get here? What happened to our collective pride of country? Where are random acts of kindness and examples of the Golden Rule? Why were we willing to lower the standard so far down that our major party candidates have more questionable baggage than Warren Buffet has dollars?

My husband and I stopped talking about the election just after the infamous video’s release. I do not believe real “locker room talk” is that ignominious or abhorrent.

My husband laughed it off. “Guys talk.”

Say what?! “Is this how you talked in the locker room in high school? In grad school?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why is it acceptable now?”

“We live in different times.”

Different times. I don’t like these times. I don’t like the fact that my husband thinks there will be civil unrest, possibly even civil war, come November 9 if Clinton wins. He wants to go buy a gun. One of my daughters is horribly depressed. Her husband isn’t worried about a civil war because he’s convinced Trump is going to win.

I’ve often suspected I don’t tolerate double standards and this political season has been proof. If my husband wasn’t taller and bigger than me, I would haul him and his trumpet out to the flagpole at dusk every night between now and the election, and I’d make him play “Taps”, breathing new life into every patriotic chromosome in his DNA. And on November 9, I’d find a way to hoist Trump up a flagpole for everyone to see, a role model to help prevent us from ever going down this political path again. Ever.

“It’s Not About the Personality.”

Ever been told there’s a perfect match for you, someone who has a great personality? “Just go out once. I guarantee you’ll really hit it off.” All the while you’re wondering how fat/ugly/deranged this potential date is. More than anything else, your dislike of this person has nothing to do with personality. But the fact remains, he/she might have the greatest personality of anyone you’ve ever met and really could be a great match for you, but you won’t even give him/her a chance.

The GOP is experiencing this dance today in regard to the SCOTUS nomination. Senate Majority Whip John Cornyn told Politico today that there’s not a chance in the world Merrick Garland is going to be confirmed. Cornyn explained that Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell is standing on principle and it has nothing at all to do with Garland’s personality.

Never mind the fact that the principle McConnell is standing on is not mentioned in the Constitution. McConnell and his allies cite their belief that the people should decide by electing a president. Didn’t we do that in 2012? Last I checked, presidential terms are for four years. It’s not like the Oval Office is sitting empty. And when this occurred in Reagan’s last year, the GOP insisted a SCOTUS replacement be confirmed as soon as possible. What’s different now? It’s not personality?

Never mind the fact that some of the GOP Senators said today they’re willing to meet with Garland. Actually, that’s a pretty smart move on their part especially if they’re facing a testy re-election battle and their opponents are calling them obstructionists.

Never mind the fact that Senator Orrin Hatch—and a few others—heaped a bushel full of praises on Garland at the time of Garland’s appointment to the DC Circuit Court.

Some of the GOP senators say maybe, perhaps, they’ll consider talking to Garland but only after the November election is held, when they know who will occupy the Oval Office. That’s quite the gamble, especially if things are looking really good for the Democratic candidate along about October. Garland could withdraw and then lame-duck Obama could put forth a liberal nominee just for fun, or the Dem President-elect could nominate a clone of Breyer or Ginsburg. GOP leaders will be hard-pressed to admit it isn’t about personality then.

The Actors

When Ron and Nancy Reagan came to Washington, they brought Hollywood. I was reminded of that the other day upon Nancy’s passing. Both actors, the Reagans knew the importance of setting and sound and script. And they used their knowledge of those things often. And now we have Donald Trump, TV reality-show master, who has similar knowledge. Some might argue Ron and Nancy displayed an upper-class attitude in their public events, but it’s a challenge to make that same assertion with Donald.

I thought of this as I watched Trump’s press conference last night after his wins in Michigan and Mississippi. On display for the cameras were assorted wines, waters, and steaks all bearing the Trump brandmark. He made sure to mention these items in his remarks, saying the display was a response to Mitt Romney’s speech the week prior. And he also stated that he thought he appeared very presidential. He ought to know there’s a problem if you have to point that out.

Trump switched to this “press conference” setting a couple of weeks ago, and last night’s “press” was a much smaller group comprised of his friends, supporters, and press. Sitting in barrel-shaped restaurant chairs with their backs to the cameras, the attendees couldn’t be identified. But once questions were allowed, Trump called on only the people in the last two or three rows—the press. He’s received a lot of negative publicity about throwing people out of his rallies and protestors are becoming more outspoken. Controlling his audience allows Trump to control his message. How will he control the crowd at the convention in July?  

Super Tuesday Hangover

Long lines. Not enough ballots. Record-breaking turnout. Democracy.

I live in a caucus state, so the process is a bit different and it inherently has problems when there is a large turnout. Caucus events are only for a couple of hours so everyone is trying to arrive at the same time. Many precincts are combined into one location and that exacerbates the congestion. Miles-long back-ups of cars trying to get in and not enough parking were the main complaints I overheard last night at our caucus site. Attendees strongly urged party leaders to adopt a primary process instead.

Voting is indeed our constitutional right, but it’s also a privilege for us Americans (and some people take it for granted). Large voter turnouts give me a thrill I can’t get anywhere else, not even in a proud moment of watching a parade of veterans. To me, people actively taking part in a democratic vote is the essence of patriotism. It’s your conscious stand for what you believe in and your public demand for governance and representation. If you don’t vote, you have no right to complain.

For many years I was an elected official and I had to run a new campaign every time my term was up. Once I won an election by one vote. I am living proof that every vote matters. Anyone who witnessed the 2004 election ought to know how critical it is to “simply” put your mark on a ballot and how important each single vote is to the total count. And yet, I’m afraid we may not have retained the tough lessons we learned from that dreadful experience.

Last night I was given a ballot, but no pen. My hand was stamped to indicate I had received a ballot, but the ink washed off moments later when I used the restroom. When ballots ran out, more were photocopied and passed out haphazardly. People came because of their anger and they were overwhelmed by the crowds and confusion. I wonder how the majority of them feel today. Did they have a positive experience, one that will propel them to return in November? Or are they hungover and promising never to do that again?

Brokered Ticket

Trump and Sanders. Both outsiders. Both chucked into the “not a chance” category a year ago. Each refusing to be beholden to special interests. Sanders’ dad was an immigrant from Poland. Trump’s mom was from Scotland. Both are New Yorkers. Trump at 69 and Sanders at 74—each considered “senior.” In his own way, each has blazed new trails in only a couple of months, leading a record number of followers toward a new age, a revolution. Who ever thought we’d have a Jewish socialist winning primaries and caucuses? What Hollywood producer would have risked peddling a reality show about a TV superstar running for president, especially one who offends many people every single day?

A Trump/Sanders ticket. It’s not impossible. Unlikely sure, but think about it for a moment. Trump believes he will win the nomination, but many party leaders say not so fast. He’s threatened more than once to run independent, and that still could happen. The Dems believe Hillary is their “real” chance at winning, and many think the system’s rigged anyway, so it’s only a matter of time before Sanders gets pushed off the stage. That’s okay, he only officially jumped on the Dem wagon about a year ago. I don’t think it would cause him to sweat one drop if he jumped onto an independent ticket.

Imagine how a Trump/Sanders ticket could change political ideology. Think of what it would mean for both parties. You can bet all the money you have in the bank that campaign finance reform would pass in the first weeks of the new Congressional session. These two are already racking up huge turnouts and we’re still nine months away from the Big Show.

My husband says Hillary is going to be indicted and will have to drop out, opening the door for Biden to win the nomination. A friend says Trump is going to have it out with Reince Priebus and will end up going independent. Voters are angry and distrustful of every incumbent or established party member. They want to throw them all out. What better way to do that than putting Trump and Sanders on the same ticket?

Will it happen? Nah. Could it happen?

Ever heard of a guy named Jesse Ventura?

Conundrum

My husband of ten years has been a staunch Republican his entire life. “I‘ll die before I‘ll ever vote for a Democrat.” Maybe so, but he knowingly married one; he even knew I was a former elected official, albeit at a local government level, and he still married me.

George W. was president the day we married and while we sat on different sides of the aisle, my husband and I collaborated in all things. People likened us to the political power couple of Mary Matalin and James Carville. Except—as the Democrat in our relationship—I was far more conservative than Carville. And Lou, my husband, having met Matalin, didn’t care for her.

Our married life got a little interesting in the spring of 2008 as Obama began to win primaries and caucuses. Lou wasn’t too worried though. “This country will never elect [an African-American].” That July I lost my high-paying job, which caused us much concern especially since Lou was retired. The market crash a couple of months later took nearly all of our savings and investments. Life was grim. On election night that November, I watched the returns in our bedroom while Lou had the living room TV all to himself. It was a couple of days before we could talk about it. Lou truly believed our lives would never be the same. I agreed with that thought, but in a more positive and hopeful sentiment.

I don’t think the ink was even dry on the 2008 election totals when Mitch McConnell promised to do everything in his power to keep Obama from accomplishing anything. Conversations at our family suppers took on rhetoric, and for the first time in my life as a parent I forbid political discussions at dinner. It was a sad day indeed. Up to that moment I had been proud of the fact that Lou and I could easily discuss politics, teasingly banter back and forth, always knowing our love for each other trumped any conversational tone.

Like so many Americans, I had placed all my hope in Obama to spirit in change in 2008. Having lost my job and money, we were desperate. The depressed years of 2008 and on turned our lives heavy with burden and gloom. After 36 months of searching, I finally landed a job—but at less than half of my previous salary. I didn’t care. We had health insurance again and a steady paycheck to begin the long, slow, tortuous climb out of the financial black hole we were in.

McConnell’s threat in the fall of 2011 that Obama would be a one-term president became Lou’s rallying cry. I was shocked. But not as shocked as Lou when Obama won a second term. In my opinion, Romney was a puppet and would never have been an effective president. And, I must admit, Obama was no better—not because he wasn’t motivated, but because the Republican-controlled congress refused to let him achieve any success.

Like Obama’s term as president, my hope was renewed in 2012 but Lou was furious. It was as if I single-handedly gave Obama another run. And it was painfully obvious that any conversation that approached politics—and some other topics as well—would find me embarrassed by Lou’s attitude. In the span of eight years he had become an Angry Old White Man and our conversations paid the price.

Despite the fact that our house is politically divided, I am still in love with Lou. In fact, I love him more deeply today than I did when I said, “I do.” He is my confidante, my partner, my witness to all that life throws at me, my rock. And yet, I am no longer able to talk to him about current events. And boy, do I want to talk about current events! I have no intention of persuading someone to come over to my side of the aisle. And I will be offended if someone declares me an idiot if I don’t cross over to the other side. But I sure would like to just chat. Can we talk?

I keep reading headlines about how The Establishment on the Right is trying to stop the runaway Trump Train. But people, isn’t that train reinvigorating your party, turning out record numbers of caucus goers and primary voters? I know without a doubt one angry old white man who is invigorated by Trump’s popularity. I can’t begin to understand why; I just know that Lou is thrilled. Given the autographed photo of Lou and Reagan that hangs in our home (don’t get me started!), I cannot believe Trump is his guy.

To be fair, I’m sure Lou is rattled to his bones that I would ever consider voting for Billary or Sanders. Twice before I said I could not support That Woman. But I’m just as torn about electing a man who promises to give everything to everyone AND cut our taxes. Who makes this stuff up?! It’s proof that truth is stranger than fiction.

My state is part of Super Tuesday and less than one week out I don’t know who I will vote for. One thing’s for sure though. I will vote.