The Politics of Anger


I hope writing is like the old adage about riding a bicycle. One doesn’t forget how to balance and move along. Writing has been a no show for years and looking back I was seldom happier than when I was writing. During the time I worked for a newspaper and freelanced I wrote a book, screenplays and thousands of words every day. And managed a growing business while also writing for financial magazines.

Now, I have the time and not so many business responsibilities, although the current ones are all personal not career and business driven. Why I haven’t posted in a while is about trying to figure out what one can say about the deep divides in our country… and the world.

To start,   the current political scene occupies a lot of my time. A couple of friends probably think too much time as they are distancing thems elves from the news and the last two debates. At my house, I don’t spend the time my husband does but I keep up.

The Trump phenomenon is fascinating and disturbing. My concern has been for many years how any woman – intelligent woman – could possibly be a Republican. What don’t they get? Do they not want control of their bodies, do they not want gender equality, equal pay, gay rights?

It is 2 weeks since I wrote this and Mike Pence is Trumps choice as VP. Or, is Pence his children’s choice?

No matter, Pence is, to me, as bad as it gets. I grew up in Indiana and became a young Democrat there after watching my Republican family follow the themes of never think, never check a fact, just believe in rumor and nonsense. I doubt much as changed. Pence is against women, gays, whatever speaks of freedom and independence.

Would it have been worse to see Newt or Christi chosen? It would be more fun for all the comedians, that’s for sure. But this is not about jokes and humor; this is about our country, our rights as women and our old fashioned American decency.

And, as of last Monday I have quit watching all daytime television. I read the L.A. paper, I watch NBC news at 5:30 and once in a while Rachel Maddow. And now even Rachel’s strident voice is too much.

I do not plan to watch the Republican convention – only Bill Maher and read the paper. The same may be true for the Democrats. What I am doing is meditating more, listening to music all day and hoping, deeply hoping, for peace and respect to emerge from this situation. Whatever is causing this violence in thought and action all over the world, I believe it is up to every individual to stand up for what is right and to live as a peaceful human being. I certainly have my faults, probably prejudices I don’t even know about, opinions about way too much – being human and compassionate is not always simple. I just know I must stop flooding my brain with toxic media and poisonous people. And to speak softly and with kindness.


Past Lives

If anyone asked me if I believe in reincarnation I would say no. But, I am always open to possibilities- sort of. People who like reincarnation seem to, in another existence, have been a prince or princess or a wealthy mogul of some kind. I haven’t heard much about serfs, chimney sweeps, dishwashers, beggars or mothers of 17.

However, in looking up a fact or two, I learned that Adolf Hitler died in 1945. Guess who was born in 1946? That narcissist of 2016, The Donald Trump.

This is either too awful to be possible or it is a bad, bad dream.

I think it was President Carter who said, people get the government they deserve. I am certain that no one I know deserves Trump. I think he needs to have a name such as he throws at those he dislikes – maybe a contest. Trickster comes to my mind.

I recently read a quote  from NEVER LET ME GO by Kazuo Ishiguro. I have not read anything by this writer but the following quote made me want to find the book

“There was another life that I might have had- but I am having this one.”


I woke myself up from a nightmare last night. I was in Washington and walking at night toward the White House when lights flashed and I saw the statues on the lawn, lit up in a golden light. When I put on my distance vision glasses I saw these huge stone pieces and all of them were of Donald Trump. In one he was swinging a golf club, in another dressed in a gaudy military uniform and saluting toward another statue of himself. this one was dressed in a tuxedo. There were more but the lights began a pulsating motion and I was afraid I might have a seizure.

Luckily, I woke myself up, heart racing and thoughts tumbling around in my brain. I was afraid, very afraid, of what I might see inside the White House.

I think I have an idea, though. Some weeks ago, I was reading People magazine when an article with pictures  appeared about The Donald and his Manhattan residence. It looked as though Michael Jackson and Liberace were the inspiration or maybe the decorators.

Shouldn’t there be a limit on bling, glitz and bad taste for any occupant of the White House?

The pols and the repubs

Oh, the whining about the Grand Old Party. I can’t remember when it was grand but am sure it was never as bad as it is today. I do love the discord and the way they don’t see how this awful outcome came about. Does anybody remember G.W. and his payback about his daddy? or Cheney and Rummy? With that memory come the deaths they caused, the debt, the unemployment, the loss of status in the world. I almost forgot ISIS which they fostered through their warmongering.

Then, let’s move on to the Tea Party. There is blame aplenty for the Republican angst.

Much as I do like to go didn’t I tell you that hey will eat their own young on live TV soon? Everyone is, I’m sure, sick of hearing me say that. But I’m not at all sick of saying it. I am sick of having to watch it.

Watching Trump is like having nausea every waking moment interspersed with yelling at the TV.

Could we please, please have a 24 hour moratorium on him. Just a day without this narcissistic bigot. His promises are like a carny barker’s cures for acne.

And don’t buy any of it that spews out of him – he will do whatever takes his fancy, and then brag about his net worth, his intelligence, his awful awesomeness.

We all need a vacation from this joke of a presidential race.

on and …….

Are we still permitted to use the term “black humor”? Maybe off the wall is a better choice. Yesterday Bill showed me one of those ads ( I call them snake oil promotions) about a solution for memory loss. Of course, people want hope and then some people view these potions with big promises as scams. This particular one was painted over many pages as the answer to regaining your memory.

I am the skeptic here: he is the open minded guy. I have managed in the last few months to persuade Bill to let me order these supplements via a check. Once you order on-line with a credit card it can take many long waits on the phone to get them to stop billing you.

I began to read this brochure and paused when I looked at the picture of the miraculous product. Ahhhh, yes. I asked Bill to come in the kitchen with me. Then handed him the very same product from the ad and asked – remember this? Luckily we both laughed. he had been taking it for a month. Here is the deal I said. They want to sell you this very product to fix your memory but you have been taking it and you can’t remember getting it.

As my friends and physicians, past and present know, I am no fan of medicine. For me, the side effects have outweighed any benefits and I don’t believe that potions are the answere. But I am sure that our primary Dr. would be quick to recommend this supplement if it had any ability to reverse or even delay memory loss.

And now to Target where I plan, as usual, to buy things I don’t need. But today, even more stuff  is coming home with me. I want to support their decision to make their restrooms open to whatever gender you think you are. Why don’t we just have big restrooms with lots of stalls? Surely, we could  wash hands, apply make up and tell everyone our business on our cell phones all in one big room?

What to do about everything

Isn’t that where many of us are now? The only good thing, if there was such a thing,about Prince’s death was it shut the media up for a day about Trump. How sad it is to lose a brilliant person at age 57 and it brings to mind the old saw – who knows the hour of their death?  I heard that from a man on Death Row in the 1980’s. he said he wasn’t bothered as he could die at any minute or get a reprieve and that none of us can know when we will die.

Awful as it is, I have often said no, not him, or her, why not some awful Isis killer or some awful politician – why couldn’t they have died instead of Maya Angelou.

And Trump goes on. Don’t remind me I said this but I almost miss football. As much as I hate the roar of the crowd and the announcers telling us where this brain damage seeking young man went to high school, it isn’t as bad as the sound or sight of Trump.

I ma dismayed as my husband keeps saying Trump could be President. I can’t threaten a move to Canada anymore as the weather doesn’t suit my clothes or my older bones. But it is unthinkable that this oaf, this snake oil purveyor could actually appeal to the sane people left in America.

Hello world!

After a lot of time thinking about how to start this blog I think the best way is to mention a few things. Since the first Cosmo and me, another Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Niles, has died and Judy, muttering Judy, a tri-color Cav has joined Bill and me. She is a rescue and a joy every minute. After a few years in a puppy mill, then in a home in which she was not quite happy, Judy came to us.

Another new event is the steady path of Alzheimer’s. Bill is walking and beginning to stumble down a mental and physical slope that changes almost daily. This is so difficult on many levels and daily events. For Bill, it is a path that he cannot stand. The inability to drive, the need for a caregiver when I go out – all demaning, maddening and frightening. For a man who has excelled in every career and endeavor that he has undertaken, it is the unimaginable that has come to live in our house. He has taught, lectured, became a Rolfer and founded a school – Soma, of structural integration. In his 50s’s Bill became a renowned figure in the commodity matkets. He has written 3 books, travelled the world lecturing and now is stuck in a small radius of our home. I drive and he doesn’t like it and because of my eye problems we drive within a 4 or 5 mile area.

Opps – enough for now. I have been cringing and swearing all day Wednesday and much of yesterday. no, one is ill – no crisis but my sweet dog, Judy, was groomed and ended up missing all of her gorgeous ear hair. I didn’t want her trimmed but acquiesced to Bill’s desire to put her in a short coat for summer. BUT, we have never had her ears shown – I am so angry at the groomer and I guess, really angry at all of the things over which I have no control.

Could I buy her an ear wig? Or, maybe keep her in a snood. I know this is ridiculous but I am so sad every time I look at her. Yesterday, I bought her a pink baby blanket and she stayed in my lap wrapped up in it all evening. She can’t know she looks like a sad stray, can she? I think  the hair on her ears is so short that any air hitting her makes her nerves just twitch… and itch.

Days later and don’t know which is worse Republican politics or living with Alzheimers. My husband is sad, frustrated and sometimes angy at me. I am worried, sad, longing to have a little time to myself. Yes, I get some, if I am lucky maybe 3 or 4 hrs a week. I would like to just sit and have coffee and play with my phone, uninterrupted. And Bill would like to be able to get in the car and drive himself somewhere, any where.

The next door neighbors have been here 3 years, after 10 years of wonderful neighbors. Now, these are people who sometimes speak and sometimes walk in the house when they see us. Three houses share a driveway, each of us owing a section. They don’t understand that is is unsafe for small children to play or for adults to skateboard in front of our garages. Their dog barks around 8 or 10 hrs a day. I have written them, talked to them, shouted at the dog and we are afraid of it. Today, Bill was scratched by this dog, drawing blood, while the oldest of their 5 children tried to control the dog. I go to the what ifs; what is it had knocked him down. What if I had our small dog out in our yard? What if a giant wind came and blew them all to Kansas. There are 3 adults, 5 children and an awful dog over there in a yard that looks as though it should contain a car up on blocks, a derelict refrigerator, a 40 year old washer and assorted junk. It has no grass, just weeds, al least 50 toys, many broken and random piles of dog excrement. I need a wall: maybe Trump would build it.