Nations make mistakes. Hopefully they learn from them. When we elected Donald Trump the first time, we f***ed up — in a big way. Electing Trump a second time is altogether different. It means we didn’t learn our lesson.
How do we live in such a country?
Like many of you, perhaps, I spent the last eight years living on the edge of my seat, the first four years hoping Trump would be thrown out of office, which he was, eventually — in 2020 by a record number of voters. Then I spent the next four years on the edge of my seat hoping the criminal would be held accountable by our system of justice. I also hoped the American people would recognize competent leadership when they experience it, and start putting their faith in government again.
I learned that if you spend too much time on the edge of your seat, you’ll end up sitting on the floor.
My hopes proved wildly unrealistic. In contrast to the low- and no-information voters who just returned Trump to power, I realized I had become an “overly informed” voter (and emotionally over-involved). So I resolved to step back. My goal from now on is to be merely an informed voter (with vastly reduced expectations for my f***ed-up country).
The first thing I did was change my radio alarm from WBEZ to WFMT. Now I wake up each morning to beautiful music. My primary source of information comes from Heather Cox Richardson’s email newsletter, Letters From An American. She is a champion of democracy who provides much-needed historical context and far more detail about current events than mainstream media. I also scan Charlie Meyerson’s excellent Public Square email aggregation of daily news items. To preserve my peace of mind, I rarely click on the links, but at least I know what’s being talked about. I have little use for pundits anymore, but I do enjoy The Borowitz Report, short Onion-esque satires from political comedian Andy Borowitz, which make me laugh.
And laughter is extremely important right now.
Not all clowns are funny, though. I pay no attention to our clown-in-chief’s latest outrages. There is nothing left to learn that we don’t already know. I have the same regard for his antics as Satchel Paige had for fried food — which he avoided because “it angries up the blood.”
All of this has helped me to calm down and reset my priorities.
With the extra time I used to devote to “informing” myself, I now read page-turners by Michael Connelly about the exploits of Harry Bosch, Renee Ballard and Mickey Haller, which provide an education in how our justice system really works (and why it doesn’t). In the morning (or middle of the night) I read uplifting poetry from one of James Crews’ wonderful anthologies and keep a small notebook on my nightstand with a pencil for wee-hour scribblings, mostly unrelated to politics. But the other night I scribbled this:
We live in two worlds now
This World and That World
In This World I find truth, meaning, kindness, understanding, hope, beauty, relevance, significance, laughter, sympathy, warmth, emotional intelligence, courage, momentary bliss, fellowship, reciprocity, equality and quality, decency, respect, regard, consideration, partnership, mutuality, acceptance, consolation, interconnection, sharing, ministry, mission, memory, imagination, intercession, intervention, invention, and grandchildren.
In That World I find a Black Hole — of power and greed — from which no light escapes.
Maybe I’m being a little hard on That World, which also includes people who are valiantly resisting the do-badders. Jack Smith should get a Presidential Medal for his efforts to bring Trump to justice. I admire the stalwarts and support their efforts when and where I can, but for now, my focus is on This World, which is where most of the good happens — here and in other This Worlds around the country.
Jimmy Carter’s funeral reminded us that not everyone in That World is driven by power and greed. For the past four years, in fact, That World was an active partner supporting our efforts. But on Jan. 20, That World will begin actively working against us, so we need a strategy for how to live on the edge of a Black Hole.
We had one job: to excise the Trump tumor from the body politic once and for all. We flat-out failed. As a nation, as individuals, as institutions, we allowed the lies to overshadow and overwhelm the truth, aided by toxic social media and abetted by compromised, corporate, billionaire-run media.
No one “possesses” the whole truth, but we do know this much: Racism and misogyny must be defeated. The economic playing field must be leveled. Climate change must be reversed. Those who abuse power to enrich themselves at our expense must be held to account. And we need to do more than tell the truth. We need to live it.
I also believe this: Living the truth is its own reward, and living falsehood is its own punishment. I refuse to live a life of despair, and I trust you won’t either. If you’ve got other ideas on how to cope, please share them with us. We cannot get through this alone.
This nation may be f***ed up, but 75 million of us voted for the Truth over Trump.
Hold fast. Stay true.