What I Want

It's been over one year since I have written anything here. I miss the corralling of thought this place gives me; instead I've been uttering in sometimes incoherent rants on twitter, occasionally Facebook. I am so completely immersed in politics that I've missed writing about the things that matter most to me: my children, my family, growing up, growing old. Rather I greet each day with news of what was said or done overnight, and each day I am genuinely horrified.

For two years (at least) I have been working on a collection of stories-those were supposed to be finished this summer. I've read about half as many books as usual. My morning quiet, extended this summer to at least three hours thanks to lazily sleeping children, has been consumed not with stories of faraway places but 140 character snippets of information, quite often leading me down a rabbit hole of hate and unkindness. I've given up far too much of my time, time that is really only mine for two months of the year.

What I've learned in allowing myself to be dragged into conversations that inevitably end in frustration is that there are people who still believe, soundly believe, that what is happening in the United States is a good thing, the right thing. There are those who believe that economic growth, attributed to this administration but factually part of an eight year increase, outweighs the other issues. There are people who believe that the other issues, as repugnant as I might find them, are the correct course for this country.

I do not.

My husband was asked if he had changed his mind regarding Trump given the economy. His response was brilliant:

Frankly, I find the question offensive, and the concept to be repugnant. To consider that I might be more OK with a racist, xenophobic, misogynistic, homophobic, unstable commander in chief , just because I would have a few more dollars in my pocket? Hell no. How selfish would that be? "Sorry Mary and Kate, your President says it's ok to grab women by the pussy, but we're richer now, so that makes up for it."

It was suggested to me that I watch inspirational videos on YouTube because in America everything is possible and that if you are offended by confederate statues or schools named after Civil War generals you should just move. In my life I know many people who don't have this option. Perhaps if we all watched inspirational videos on YouTube we'd find the way. I doubt it.

I want my life back.

I want to not worry everyday about what he might do or say, and who he might anger, or inspire. I want my children to grow up with a commander in chief who models dignity, kindness, intelligence, and compassion. I want to live in a country where hate is not fueled by fear, where hate is not tolerated, where hate is not the standard.

I want this to be over.

Allyson

The Other Side? Hate, Anger, Contempt, Disdain, Hostility, Deceit

"Take each other's side", she said.

My mother, who generally abstained from political discussion, was suggesting, as she browned hamburger or drained pasta, that we do what?

"Stop arguing your own side and argue the other. It will help, especially if you want to go to law school". Did I want to go to law school?

My mother voted for George Bush because he was handsome. She grew up in Texas,  home to a preponderance of Republicans, and the best reasoning she could dream up in voting for George Bush was his boyish good looks. Politics were not, and have never been, of any interest to her but the woman can argue with a calendar as to what day it is.

My father, a Texas Aggie republican, and his daughter, a burgeoning democrat, were momentarily silenced from the conversation that had been going on for years.

Note both practical conservative and liberal crunchy footwear.

Dad drew me in to politics, bringing home his love of history and debate to dinner every night, at no time more heartily than the summer of 1980, when Jimmy Carter was poised to lose the White House to Ronald Reagan. Reagan was everything Dad wanted him to be, I felt tragically sorry for Carter and all the tragedies of his administration, and John Anderson was an interesting, albeit idealistic, option. My father spent hours explaining to me the insanity of an Anderson vote (twelve years later he quietly cast his vote for Ross Perot unable to take any more of the Bush years). That summer I had knee surgery and spent a week in the hospital, the same week as the Republican National Convention. I remember quite clearly the nurse apologizing when she realized that then, in the days of only three network stations, the only thing to watch on my hospital television, was the convention. My week of bed rest was spent arming myself political ammunition.

Weeks later Sharie shut us both down with this simple idea, "take the other side".

For all the madness that is my mother this idea, her own nod to Atticus Finch, has served me well, not only in political debate, but in the day to day interactions of an adult, a mother, a wife.

And so, in this election, I have tried very hard to argue the other side. I have read countless articles written by people in support of Donald Trump, or in support of those things he propounds to believe. In years past this approach has worked, and ultimately, while I may have not agreed ideologically with candidates, I could find a level of respect for them and their beliefs. Not so this year.

In fact I am challenged to find one piece of good in either the candidate or campaign. Beyond that, I am horrified as I watch the unearthing of hate and anger which, it seems, has been lying dormant for years in a country that extols acceptance and equality as it's virtues. The ongoing rebuttal of fact, the creation of new rules and the lowered standard of behavior is simply mind boggling. No matter how many times I try to argue the other side I find there is simply nothing there to argue. I am at a complete loss as to the dismissal of intelligent thought when faced with this childlike and temperamental behavior. This alone would, and should, disqualify a candidate. It seems in 2016 his lack of moral compass and ongoing disregard for standards of civil conduct seem to only propel him further along. People finding their voice in this candidate scare me far more than the candidate himself.

I question the intelligence and temperament of anyone willing to vote for a man so completely unqualified and unprepared for this job, and I do not understand those that chose to not vote out of disgust for both options. You may not like or agree with one, but you must exercise your precious right to vote. Maintain your politics at the state and legislative level but don't forgo your chance to keep this republican out of the White House.

Dear Mom, I have tried, really I have to argue the other side. The truth is I can't see the policy for the hyperbole. I can't find the truth for the misrepresentation of politics and process. I can't find the good for the abhorrent and repulsive behavior. I have tried.

In my heart I know my dad, the lifetime republican, would do the right thing. Never a democrat but decent and kind and passionately tied to education and truth my father would vote to keep this man and his contempt for women, minorities, and the disabled out of the White House.

Take this opportunity to do the right thing.

The Greatest Story Ever Told

When I was younger than 12, closer to 8,  my mother's father gave me a book on the Presidents of the United States. It was navy, a hard back and far too advanced for someone my age: almost all words, very few pictures (mostly photographs), plenty of charts and graphs and little to no appeal to someone my age. Visiting my grandparents in Dallas, I had little else to read and so I flipped through this book, certain that it was intended for my father, not me.

Near the front was a half page list of questions, Presidential Trivia: Which President was buried in a casket the size of a piano box? And, Name the only father and son to both serve as President?* There must have been 50 questions, the answers not listed anywhere for me to find. I had no choice but to read the book.

The Presidents were included chronologically. Each section began with a photograph (of a painting where required), a list of facts and then two to three pages of biography, written, not like an elaboration of the fact page, but an anecdotal biography of each man who had, at that time, been President. Their lives and accomplishments were not reduced to numbers, dates and honors, but built into stories that were engaging, stories that I could relate to, stories that held my interest and pushed me to read more.

The book that I was so positive was not for me became my very favorite. I memorized the trivia questions, and then the answers, and quizzed my friends. My goldfish was named Franklin, his successor, after an untimely death, named Truman. James Buchanan, the only bachelor president, fascinated me and for years the only books I checked out of the Trailwood Elementary library were biographies of the first ladies. History was not boring, it was a collection of the best stories I had ever heard.


The book is long gone but the stories and the fascination with history remain. When I talk about history, to my children or the children at school, I tell them the stories. We read Johnny Tremain, Imogene's Last Stand, and Players in Pigtails.  Sometimes, when you least expect it, history sneaks in and before you know it, you're reading the whole book, and loving the entire story.

Kate agrees. U.S. President of the Day courtesy of my ten year old who uses her collection of presidential magnets and trivia for both educational and decorative purposes.

Books: Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes , Imogene's Last Stand by Candace Fleming, and Players in Pigtails by Shana Corey.

This post was inspired by Dead Wake, Erik Larson's thrilling account of the Lusitania's last voyage across the Atlantic Ocean and the U-Boat that attacked it. Join From Left to Write on March 26th as we discuss Dead Wake. As a member I received a copy of this book for review purposes.

*When I was 8 the only father and son to serve as President were John Adams and his son, John Quincy Adams. Things have changed.

Jimmy Carter in the Pantry, Now on the Stage

When you opened the pantry you saw this, green Carter stickers covering every single jar, or so it seemed to my ten year old eyes. For those few months leading up to the 1976 presidential election my family owned more peanut based products than Lillian Carter.

My father was a Republican, a rooting tooting flag waving Texas educated Republican. The candidacy of Jimmy Carter was the greatest gift ever bestowed upon my politically minded and quick witted father; he had dinner party material for years thanks to the peanut farmer from Georgia. He also had peanuts, tons and tons of peanuts.

The son of one of Dad's best friends, a Texan, was a Jimmy Carter loyalist. The boxes began to appear not long after Dad returned from a Houston trip: peanut butter, peanut brittle, spicy Texas peanut barbecue sauce, roasted peanuts, salted peanuts, raw peanuts. There was peanut oil, peanut flavored cereals and peanut butter cookies. And every single one of them was wrapped in a bright green Jimmy Carter bumper sticker.

Disgusted, Dad wanted to toss the peanuts. Not so said Sharie, don't be wasteful, we'll eat it all. And so she set about, cooking skills generally limited to the browning of hamburger, to add a pop of peanut to every thing she created. For months we suffered through a myriad of dinners: goulash, spaghetti, stroganoff, all rooted in hamburger and with a dash of peanut butter. What was once a baseball game treat, roasted peanuts now appeared in every school lunch. My teeth suffered the joy of peanut brittle months before Christmas.  Early impressions of President Carter, because we were still eating peanuts long after inauguration day, were a bit peanut shaped.

Dad mellowed in his resistance, Sharie continued to thaw hamburger and I learned about inflation, energy, hostages and the Panama Canal.  By the time he left office, after four long years and a general creaming by Ronald Reagan, we were out of peanuts. History tells us it was not the most successful presidency, bested by the likes of scandalous Warren Harding and impeached Andrew Johnson. His work as a former President has been far more effective and respected, almost all of which my peanut loving father has missed.

President and Mrs. Carter are speaking Monday in Grand Rapids. We will be there with the girls who will know much more about the former president than I did at their age, but with far less peanut flavor.

Zachary Taylor Swift

"Mom, I think when Mary grows up she is going to marry someone whose last name is Swift", said Kate.
"Really?'
"And I think she will change her name."

Admittedly I'm lost, and a bit disappointed with this last prediction but Kate continues, "and then she will have a baby and name it Zachary".

"All right, Zachary Swift, interesting."

She nodded, "yes, and his middle name will be Taylor!", and then she bobbed her head, smiling like mad, and looked to me to know exactly what she was saying. I nodded and smiled but with the dazed look of a woman who was completely lost, quite similar to the face I'm left with when she says things like "prime factorization".

"Mom! Zachary Taylor Swift! She can have a baby that is named after both our interests! Zachary Taylor AND Taylor Swift! Get it?

Oh I do now. Twins.