As
Week Forty-two: As
We all know sometimes life hates and troubles
Can make you wish you were born in another time and space
But you can bet your lifetimes that and twice it's double
That God knew exactly where he wanted you to be placed
So make sure when you say you’re in it, but not of it
You’re not helping to make this earth
A place sometimes called Hell
Change your words into truths
And then change that truth into love
And maybe our children’s grandchildren
And their great grandchildren will tell
I’ll be loving you
—Stevie Wonder, As, from the album Songs In the Key of Life
Things are so fucked up that I can’t make sense of them.
We all know sometimes life hates and troubles
Can make you wish you were born in another time and space
An immoral, corrupt, vile, immature, name-calling, narcissistic, egotistical, racist asshole is the Republican candidate for the most powerful position on Earth, and I struggle to understand why. I don’t even want to understand how, but I think I know.
You’ve heard of a channel surfer? That’s me. especially on the radio. That’s how I recently heard As. I certainly knew the song, especially for one particular line, but on that day the lyrics seemed to stick with me, so I did what I always do; I Goggled the lyrics to read what I heard.
So make sure when you say you’re in it, but not of it
You’re not helping to make this earth a place sometimes called Hell
On January 6, 2021 I watched in real time what was happening at the Capitol. At the same time on social media I read posts that read things like This is not who we are. I remember thinking (and I think I even posted) that what we were seeing was exactly who we are. People wrote We’re better than this. Nope. We’re not. In other words, don’t tell me you’re in it but not of it. Yep, you’re in it, and you’re born of it, but how? How did it come to this? How did it result in thousands of devoted loyalists of an immoral, corrupt, vile, immature, name-calling, narcissistic, egotistical, racist asshole attacking the Capitol in order to interrupt and possibly stop the process by which Congress confirms the results of an election?
At some point not long ago I was texting with a friend, an ex-colleague, a person I have known for many years. I know he is a devout Republican. I know he is conservative by nature. But I had no clue that he could tolerate an immoral, corrupt, vile, immature, name-calling, narcissistic, egotistical, racist asshole. As that became clear to me I grew more and more intolerant, I asked point-blank if he intended to vote for the Republican candidate. I cannot remember his response exactly but it said something about there being no qualified alternative. No qualified alternative. No fucking qualified alternative.
This level of crazy is something like devotion to a favorite sports team. Tom Brady orders an equipment manager to deflate footballs, that’s no big deal. In fact, it’s not even cheating. Jim Harbaugh and Connor Stalions stole signs that might have led to the success the University of Michigan enjoyed, but hold on, everybody steals signs. Go Blue! I’m in. I’m all in, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that will make me change my mind.
Nothing? Not 34 felony convictions? Not organizing an insurrection? Not bizarre rants about the purported size of legendary golfer’s genitalia? Not racist claims about Haitian immigrants eating the pets of other citizens of Springfield, Ohio? Not ridiculous claims about millions of dangerous Mexicans entering the United States illegally and, get this, raping and murdering Americans? Not compulsive lying? Apparently nothing can change their minds. No behavior is unacceptable. Nothing can sway the loyalty of those who will vote him back into office.
Change your words into truths
And then change that truth into love
A few weeks ago I went with a friend to Las Vegas. On the same evening we saw the Eagles at the Sphere, we spent quite a while waiting for our Uber driver as he fought the traffic to make his way to the designated “rideshare” area of the casino. While we waited, my friend began talking to a woman. Before I was even aware of her, she had recruited my friend to be one of “ten people from every state” who promises to vote for the Republican candidate for President. Seizing his opportunity to make my life even more miserable than the chaotic scene I was currently maneuvering, he suggested that I might be one such person.
Before she knew that the opposite was true, she was friendly (enough). When she told me she was from Cleveland I passed along my condolences regarding the Browns. I assured her we were taking good care of their former football team, which we call the Ravens. She grew less friendly. I told her I would consider voting for the Republican candidate, “But,” I asked, “Isn’t he in jail?”
She was not amused. “Oh you like high prices?” she yelled at me.
“No, hold on. Wasn’t he convicted of 34 felonies? He’s in jail; right?”
“Has he been sentenced?” she wanted to know. “Has he?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s in jail.”
“Well he’s not, and he’s not going to jail. He didn’t do anything wrong!”
At some point my friend told her that I excelled at “pushing people’s buttons.” He did seem to enjoy the tableau being performed at his request. Her husband, who had not said one syllable up to this point, suddenly interjected, “Good. Keep it up.”
And maybe our children’s grandchildren
And their great grandchildren will tell
I’ll be loving you
She’s not alone, that’s for sure. The sheer number of yard posters for the Republican candidate and his running mate makes it easy to see that he is overwhelmingly popular. But the volume of such signs do not help me or anyone else understand why. In one yard I saw two signs side-by-side. One read Jesus Always Delivers. The other sign had the Republican candidates name along with the slogan Make America Great Again.
Enough said? The Republican candidate for President of the United States of America is the football team of the evangelical crowd. He can deflate the ball. He can steal signs. Apparently he can do anything he wants because after all Jesus Always Delivers.
Until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky
Until the ocean covers every mountain high
Until the dolphin flies and parrots live at sea
Until we dream of life and life becomes a dream
Until the day is night and night becomes the day
Until the trees and seas up, up and fly away
Until the day that eight times eight times eight is four
Until the day that is the day that are no more
Until the day the earth starts turning right to left
Until the earth just for the sun denies itself
Until dear mother nature says her work is through
Until the day that you are me and I am you
Now ain't that loving you
Always
Your post brings back a memory for me. I was 11 years old and playing in the Grey Charles Baseball Tournament. I always loved that tournament because we played “big league” rules. One of which allowed us to lead off first base. I was on first base, taking my lead, when the pitcher balked. It was subtle, but he balked. I pointed to him, called out the balk, and began walking to second base. No one moved or said anything. The pitcher, now standing in front of the rubber (hence the balk), threw to the first baseman, who tagged me. “Out”, said the umpire. “But he balked!” I protested. No one, not even the first base coach, came to my defense. I looked at my dad, who happened to be that first base coach, and he shrugged. It was at that moment that I realized he didn’t know the rule. He couldn’t argue on my behalf, because he didn’t know what rule the pitcher had violated. Here I was, 11 years old, and I knew something that he didn’t. It is the first memory I have of knowing that my dad didn’t know everything. There he stood, still my dad, still president of his company, still husband to my mom, still a Superhero in my eyes, but something had changed. I jogged back to the bench thinking, “how could he not know?” As time passed and my young brain processed, I eventually came to realize that even those you hold in high regard don’t have all the answers. They are not always right. They don’t know everything. They, too, make mistakes.
ReplyDelete38 years later, he’s still my dad, still president of his company, still husband to my mom, still a Superhero in my eyes.
I’m not exactly sure why your post brought on that memory.