Anything not to write about Trump

It's Halloween, which has somehow evolved into America's favorite holiday.

That may be due to the holiday not really putting a burden on families to travel or maybe because it includes few clear religious or moral overtones. After all, small children are encouraged to dress as ghouls and moms paint on fake blood... unless kids are going as princesses or some current movie character. 

Kids often wear costumes to school, which means the day is basically shot in terms of learning. But teachers also join in the fun, as do cafeteria workers and custodians (but not as often). 

I got a haircut today -- I know, a big event for me! -- and most of the stylists were in some sort of costume. There were a fair number of witches but also one cat and one zombie. It was all in good fun but nobody seemed all that comfortable. The customers were all male at 10 a.m. at Floyd's, and all middle age or older. They were not in costume.

I was glad my stylist limited herself to pink contact lenses, which were disconcerting for a moment but then forgotten about as she tried to make something from my increasingly thin and pale locks. She was behind me, after all. I prefer women with sharp objects cutting away at me to be comfortable and competent and not distracted. I think I lucked out today.

Our granddaughters celebrated a bit early by attending a showing of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show," which seems to be a tradition in Iowa City. I'm not sure what their plans are for tonight and prefer to remain in ignorance about most young adult activities. 

Our grandsons are probably in search of as much candy as they can get their hands on. I saw a picture of Jack and he looked so darn cute. I think his mother has more fun than he does in helping create his latest costume. 

My Halloween memories from our own children mostly involve cold temperatures and drizzle. There is no cold quite like the cold from a wet and near freezing Iowa fall night. I would lurk on the sidewalk as Lesley and Sara would approach each home looking for treats, trying to be inconspicuous in my raincoat and hat. 

I certainly loved watching their joy during those cold nights as they marveled that anonymous people would willingly drop candy into their bags or buckets. But the greatest thrill of the night, for me, was when we called it quits and I could get back inside and thaw out. 

I may or may not have snuck a few candy bars from their hauls when they were asleep. 

Reporting back from the Portland 'riots'

Last weekend, we visited Phil and Tricia in Portland (not that hellhole!) and they were glad to drive us down to the area of the ICE facility. It is separated from the downtown, as I visualize it, and is an industrial looking building that mostly is distinguished by the boarded up windows that must surround it most of the time. 

The ICE facility stands just 50 yards from some high-end apartments and condos, with lots of restaurants and other shops on the ground floors. Phil's company had built some of them, so he could share some details and history (they are quite new). We visited the area around noon on Sunday, the day after the "No Kings" march, so maybe everyone was just worn out, out to brunch, or enjoying a park on a sunny fall day. 

But we saw no protestors beyond the handful sitting in lawn chairs along one block of the street, a block away from ICE. We saw no ICE agents. We saw a lot of trash and tents... but they must have belonged to the "professional protestors" who were on break. All was calm. A mom and dad and two kids biked on the sidewalk and few pedestrians were around. 

Bottom line: much ado about nothing.

There is no emergency in Portland and there are no clear emergencies anywhere else in the country. We have a judicial system that has no idea of how to deal with shameless lying by the president and his sycophants. I'm not sure how many national security "emergencies" Trump has declared, nor do I understand just how long any one emergency can last before it evolves into something else.

Of course, I consider the Trump presidency and all those Republican politicians onlookers an emergency. 

But at some point that emergency starts looking like "normal." At some point, our current leadership vacuum becomes a predicament rather than a problem. A predicament is simply a challenge that has no particular solution and therefore just makes people crazy if they are trying to find one.

Kathleena and I went to a "pub theology" meeting at Rock Bottom... the purpose was to discuss what connects us as opposed to what divides us. There is a "turn the other cheek" propensity among Methodists who gather for such things, so it was no surprise to hear plenty of "just love one another" and "we all need to have a meal together" solutions. 

In other words, not all that satisfying when all around us we see blatant lying and corruption and there seem to be no people with any authority willing to do anything about it. 

I went away thinking that there must be some line, some proclaimed position, some abhorrent behavior that "cross the line" and that leaves us needing to do more than simply turn another cheek or invite someone to a home-cooked meal.

My own solution is mostly to avoid being around people who are rabid Trumpers and when circumstances do plut me around them, to avoid discussing politics. 

I know the common wisdom is to try to keep communication lines open. 

I prefer feigning ignorance and finding the nearest exit.

Time flies, whether you're having fun or not

Continuing with my theme on aging and the unexpected ways that time can rush (and slow down) as we move along in life...

Yesterday our eldest grandchild turned 21. That simple fact is enough to hint at my state of mind as I contemplated that somewhat arbitrary number... with an importance that could not be more artificial. And yet...

It probably has something to do with Grace being our first grandchild and having a long series of fun and not-so-fun days with her, basically from her birth. But I have some similar misgivings about our youngest grandchild, Jack. He is suddenly nearly 12.

Here's one slight glimmer of good news in our trying times. Trump is nine months into his current presidency and it has been both packed with weirdness and angst while also suddenly being nearly a quarter over. 

He's a horrible human being, not to mention clearly losing his faculties. It might be dementia but might just be nearing 80 years old. Even the mainstream media simply chooses to overlook even his most alarming flubs and lies and awful name-calling... something that most news outlets would have led with for any other president. 

I have seen a lot of commentators expressing alarm that America has basically given up on caring about having a wanna be dictator in charge, and millions of sycophants genuflecting before him. They draw parallels to history where populations stopped caring, focusing instead on their personal lives and well-being. Only war or some other disaster could make a difference, but history is equally clear that the tendency of humans is fall back into the authoritarian, "what's in it for me?" camp. 

I don't want American farmers to go bankrupt, uprooting an entire way of life while causing pain for anyone shopping for food. But they are going bankrupt and most of that can be attributed to the man and the political party he took over. Nebraska farmers can't sell their soybeans to China? That is just one country calling the bluff of Trump and his cult.

Hold on. Those farmers ARE the cult, by and large. They are so deep into the pseudo-religion of Trump that they will not only drink the Kool-Aid. They will demand it.

My guess is that Trump and his minions will find a way to dispense some of that tariff income to subsidize those industrious farmers and save them from ruin. But the children of those farmers who will be rescued by this handout? My guess is that they will make the logical decision to get away from agriculture. They will find other ways to make a living... much less physically taxing ways.

I want to enjoy a bit of schadenfreude about those Nebraska farmers (and Iowa farmers, and Indiana farmers, and...), but their loss is all our loss in the long run. 

They will keep voting for Republicans, the same cult that claims to speak for them while robbing them of their proud independence and their futures. 

Look, we are Americans, and we won't make the slightest change in, well, anything, as guns continue to terrorize our children, among others. There's nothing we can do.

There's nothing we can do. 

My hope is that Grace and her generation can hold onto what was, in my lifetime, the basic idea of America: We can do it. 

If I prayed, it would be for that to happen soon.

Time flies, whether we're having fun or not

It's already midterm for fall university courses, which does not seem possible... but life hurries along, particularly for older people. I swear that I assumed life would move more slowly as I aged but, as in many things I thought I knew, I was incorrect.

Yesterday, Kathleen and I drove up to the DU light rail station to catch one of the many trains I expected would be coming but, only to find that the entire H-Line is shut down (temporarily, I assume, but I missed any sort of announcement of this). So we waited 15 minutes or more for a rather crowded E-Line train and that train did not go to the Convention Center but only went to Union Station. \

Again, not a big deal as the plan was to saunter up the finally complete 16th Street to see all the improvements. We mostly noticed many young adults cramming into restaurants for lunch at the north end of 16th, with fewer people as we walked toward the Capitol. 

One obvious change was far fewer homeless folks in evidence, which was nice but a bit concerning. They must be someplace...

Anyway, we sauntered and later ate lunch at the Thirsty Lion and then got back on the lightrail and back to the DU station... and home. The entire excursion took four hours or so.

I was exhausted. Watched a couple Star Trek: Enterprise, a prequel to the series that predates the Prime Directive, though we see some of the issues that led to that. And before I knew it, it was 6:45 and I was off the choir rehearsal for the first time in weeks (due to conflicts caused by traveling and visitors).

Butt-dialed Sara on Wednesday evening and found her in the airport. She and Jack were off to San Francisco to pay a quick visit to Drake, who was Jack's best friend until the family moved last year. Phil and Tricia flew to Phoenix for a weekend get-together with friends at the Anderson house they have use of in Scottsdale. 

It was exhausting just to think about all the jetting around, and I guess the air travel slow down did not cause major issues. 

And now it's Friday and pizza day, and my "new" 8-week strategic writing course for CSU officially kicks off on Monday, though I had to have it open by today. I might have it all set but I must admit to rushing through some of the set up. When I agreed to take on an extra class this term, that second session seemed forever away. It was not.

I have two major projects that are partially complete. The first is my St. Luke's history book, which is in decent shape through 1995, spanning 70 pages, including photos. I asked Kathleen to give it a read and she did, though the other day she asked, "Is this missing some pages?" 

Her question is a good one and a gentle nudge to find time to get the next "chapter" into shape and get us to 2003 or 2004... the place I have pictured as a good spot to publish the first "half." I don't know how I will publish, but likely through Amazon. I can put off that decision, however, as I try to get a number of sources to get back to me with anecdotes and insights and personal stories about the church.

The second project is under more time pressure: the script for my latest readers theater production, which needs to be ready prior to "auditions" on Nov. 8... so I'm about a month out. The good news is that I settled on a title -- Mr. Kringle Goes to Town -- and have some random Hallmark spoof scenes pretty much ready to go. We fly to the hellhole known as Portland next week, and my latest goal is to have a rough draft that we can read through by then.

So that's one week.

See what I mean about life moving quickly?

There's a madman in charge

It seems quite apparent that Donald Trump is experiencing psychic distress and is increasingly unable to distinguish between reality and the online fever swamp in which he resides. 

My guess is that nearly anyone who has watched and listened to him (and I'm not talking about cherry-picked memes and out-of-context quotes) can see that the president of the United States should not be allowed to continue in office. 

We just can't say that. There are only whispers.

We are completely unprepared as a society for an elected leader who is, if not insane, deeply unserious and randomly hateful and harmful. 

Forget the news today that his outright threats may result in the hostages being returned by Hamas to the Israelis. I hope that does happen, though I would guess that the people of Gaza have put the pressure on Hamas to just stop it. Israel has destroyed them utterly, and not just physically. 

At some point, people just want to live. 

Heck, think of the millions of Africans forced into slavery over centuries in the U.S. They routinely outnumbered their plantation owners but the system kept them from combining their numbers and producing lasting change. Some rose up. Most did not. I assume they just couldn't imagine how to summon the strength and strategy to do so. 

There are plenty of stories in novels and movies about enslaved individuals finding ways both subtle and bold to fight the system that exploited them. But the truth is that most of the enslaved lived and died in obscurity, hoping to find some fleeting joy wherever they could. 

Those anonymous Africans inspire me, as do all the anonymous Gazans who are hungry and homeless and hopeless. They keep living and doing their best, often in a horrible world.

Ordinary Americans are not usually hungry and homeless. I myself could not be more comfortable. Most of us have lots of media options and a wide menu of reporting to explore. Trump is on TV constantly... and issues a never-ending flood of social media weirdness. 

No one can say they are not seeing Trump degrade before our very eyes. The emperor has no clothes.

Our nearly 80-year-old wannabe dictator is not going to get better. His cult is not going to surrender power easily. They know that a Trump doesn't come along often and that when he is gone it will be unlikely to find anyone with a similar blind following. Use him while they can is their logical choice.

I am rooting for someone to simply note, candidly, that the man with the nuclear codes is not fully sane... BUT to also describe some clear and concise alternatives to the Republican worship of the very rich. 

I am afraid that CBS and the New York Times are just not up to providing that much clarity, and am skeptical that enough of the population would even pay attention if they did. 

I am left with a vague hope that the old guy has a stroke or some debilitating disease that simply shuts him up. It won't fix everything but the horrors would slow down. Not a very defensible ethical and moral position.

But I will show up at church tomorrow and sing a hymn about justice rising with the choir and hear vague words of hope and faith. We will light a compassion candle for the latest shooting victims or dying Ukrainians or Gazans.

And the stock market will continue rising...