The Good Fight

Choosing light over flight and fright

Sometimes I wake up screaming.

Sometimes it’s because I feel like I awoke in a post-apocalyptic dystopian wasteland of a country which minority rule has turned into a soul crushing real-life version of The Handmaid’s Tale.

Sometimes I wake up screaming because the cat in perched on my head, licking my pate with his sandpaper tongue.

Either way, it is not pleasant.

My knee jerk reaction to certain “leaders” curtailing women’s rights while at the same time enhancing gun owners rights and still beholden to their orange headed false idol is to say, “Okay, that’s it. This is not the country I signed up for. I am outta here.”

You know, as in leaving, moving somewhere like … somewhere that is not the USA.

Yet what does that accomplish? For one thing I am fortunate to live in California, a state which, for the most part, is run by people who believe in human rights, equality, fairness and justice, while not vilifying the already marginalized. For the most part. A state that appears to be taking tangible steps to stem the rising tide of assault weapon accessibility and the carnage that ensues.

And you know what? Running away is antithetical to the genuine American spirit. I mean the real deal – people standing up to oppression and injustice, not the clown show that the ultra-right engages in where they wave their flags (and guns), shouting about freedom and individual rights while at the same time cheering efforts to limit a woman’s right to govern her own body. They also love to whine about any attempt to get assault weapons (who’s ONLY function is to kill people; it’s right there in the name, for heaven’s sake) off the streets and out of teenagers’, well, anyone’s hands. How do these folks reconcile “get your hands off my guns” with “get your hands on a woman’s uterus”? Short answer, they don’t. They have chosen to abandon all reason, common sense, compassion and willingness to listen to anyone other that their orange-hued feckless fearful leader.

If I leave, I have given up. Like those oh so self-righteous members of the GOP who resigned from Congress or the Senate because they were so upset with their alleged president. Great. You look good on that moral high horse. But wouldn’t it have been better to stick it out and fight the carroty wave of hatred, intolerance and racism, instead of taking your ball and going home, secure in the knowledge that you would soon be raking in six figure speaking fees on the lecture circuit?

If I condemn those cowards and quitters, I cannot in good conscience do the same thing myself.

“This land is your land, this land is my land,” sang the late, great Woody Guthrie. If you don’t believe that with all your heart, if you back down and let the rich and powerful and callous walk all over you, you are no patriot, no true American.

I find it all too easy to bitch and moan and complain, and shriek in the wilderness about all that is wrong: the aforementioned gun plague resulting an epidemic of mass killings, the raging war in Ukraine led by yet another insecure bully, the rising cost of living, the demise of a common sense infrastructure bill, the ongoing immigrant crisis, the attack on voting rights, the seeming indifference to the January 6 committee’s daily revelations that the former president promoted and pretty much led (as much as he can lead anything) an attempted coup, committing acts of high treason (and low comedy) along the way, knowing that he will, once again, escape prosecution an conviction, and not spend his remaining days behind bars where he belongs.

Then there is the Supreme Court, which is proving itself less supreme every day. If I were Diana Ross, I would demand they return the name to its rightful owners and henceforth be known the United States Shameless Court.

Yet …

There is hope.

There is always hope. Even when it seems there is no hope, there is hope.

We have a president who is in there trying to do the right thing each and every day. Does he misspeak? Yes. Does he seem lost at times? Yes. Does he stumble in his eagerness to connect to us? Yes. Does he mock the handicapped? No. Does he brag about grabbing women’s genitals? No. Does he coin insulting little nicknames for those who oppose him? No. Did he actively encourage an insurrection on our nations’ capital. No way.

This decent, good man is beaten up in the press consistently, yet his party does not rise to his defense. As usual, Democrats excel at snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. That’s another topic for another day, another blog.

Here’s just a few of his accomplishments that get lost in the 24-hour instant-outrage “news” cycle:

• Biden signed a $1.2 trillion bipartisan infrastructure package that passed with 13 Republicans who voted with the Democrats in favor of the bill.

• Biden signed a $1.9 trillion COVID-19 relief package in March 2021 that included up to $1,400 per person to financially struggling Americans, extended unemployment support and provided billions of dollars to help schools, colleges and universities reopen.

• Biden put in place a $20 billion vaccination program to fight COVID. While 1% of the U.S.population was vaccinated when Biden came into office, 74% of Americans – 249 million Americans – have received at least one vaccine dose.

• Biden expanded access to affordable health care for five million Americans.

• Under Joe Biden, unemployment dropped to 3.9%; under Donald Trump, unemployment was 6.3%.

• 6,000,000 jobs have been created.

• Jobless claims are the lowest since 1969.

He has also enthusiastically joined the fight for transgender rights, voting rights, civil rights, gun control, and appointed the most diverse cabinet in history.

And he goes to work every day trying to make things better, instead of gazing at the TV screen and Twitter feed for hours on end lashing out at anyone who dares oppose him.

We occasionally get a whiff of a principled Republican speaking up and out (and not quitting), such as Mitt Romney who, in a recent Atlantic essay, articulated his belief that America is in denial, exemplified by the charlatan who still rails about a stolen election that never had any basis in fact. Romney goes on to say that the return of the former Cheeto-in-Chief would feed the nation’s sickness. You go, Mitt!

It is a reminder of what politics used to be like before the s***show that was #45. Republicans and Democrats would disagree, yell, fight, rant and rave but, for the most part, there was an understanding that everyone wanted the same thing: to improve the lives of our citizens and to make life better for future generations, to empower and support the individual, and do everything possible to help each of us realize our dreams. That perhaps we should remember that we were founded as The United States of America.

Alas, that was then, this is now.

It would be easy for me to dive down that tempting rabbit hole of resentment and rage but I am at a point where I choose to look for light, for the good, for positive steps that can encourage and inspire, instead of depress and fuel my disillusionment.

On July 4th of all days, my doorbell rang. I opened the door to find a gentleman, probably in his mid-50s, standing before me with a huge dog by his side. The gentleman handed me a $20 bill, saying, “My dog and I walk by your house every day and you always have a bowl of water in front. He always stops and drinks it and I just wanted to thank you for doing that.”

I tried to refuse the money, but he insisted. “Our water bills are going up all the time. I just wanted to help a little.” He smiled and they left.

Later that day, I read Tweets and posts from many people whom I respect, saying roughly the same thing: in light of the endless stream of awfulness in our country – senseless shootings (are there any sensible ones?), Roe V. Wade, gutting the EPA while making it okay to pack heat in public, inflation, gas prices, the war in Ukraine, homelessness, lack of accountability for an insurrection, etc. –  they could not, would not celebrate our nation’s 246th birthday. At one point, not that long ago, I would have enthusiastically joined this chorus of disapproval.

But not this day.

It’s silly to think that a guy with a dog and $20 could have so much impact on me but they did. For his gesture was not an isolated one. We are surrounded by small, yet huge, acts of kindness everyday ­– disposing of trash that is not yours on the trail, helping a stranger put their groceries in their car, picking up the tab for the guy’s coffee behind you in the drive through –­ the list goes on and on and on.

That is who we are. This is who I want to be. So, rather than retreat in resignation, I am choosing to fight for our freedom, to embrace the good, to look for and act on the positive steps I can take to make a better neighborhood, a better community, a better country. It may not have the immediate gratification of a good vent, but I trust the long-term returns on this investment will reap lasting benefits.

A guy can hope, right?