My latest Letter to the Editor:
On a recent trip north, we encountered what appeared to be a Trump supporter in the breakfast room of our hotel. The morning news was on, carrying the president’s “teleprompter” response to the El Paso and Dayton shootings.
The woman at the table next to us turned and chortled, “He sure is stirring the pot, isn’t he?” We looked at her blankly and went on eating. We’ve accepted that we’re no match for those buying into the ideologies spewed by Fox, Russian-influenced affiliates on social media, and Ol’ Dead-Eyes presidential advisor Stephen Miller.
“It looks like he’s lost a little weight, too,” the woman added, somewhat proudly.
A number of sharp responses sprang to mind, from “Adderall does that,” to “Good grief, lady, don’t you know a crime family when you see one?” And my personal favorite, “You know what floats to the top when you stir a swamp, right?”
But I kept quiet, we half-smiled politely, and she eventually left. Some things just aren’t worth it. Not in a hotel breakfast room.
To clarify further, when this woman spoke up in the breakfast room, I could almost hear my late mother whisper in my ear, “Be careful – she might be trying to start a fight.”
When the woman stood up and sidled past our table, the crucifix she wore swung broadly in my face, bringing to mind a Sunday school teacher who once told me that God counted every hair on my head. “Does He come back and count again after I’ve brushed my hair?” I’d asked innocently.
A scolding finger wagged in my face and I was reprimanded for “asking stupid questions.”
As an adult, I occasionally wonder if God were that busy counting everyone’s hair, then it stands to reason that He might not have had time to protect us from the likes of despots and terrorists. If He weren’t so busy counting hairs He might even have the time to keep us from endlessly fighting over religion.
These Trump supporters, whom we lovingly refer to as “Trumpanzees,” seem so adamant about their position that they’re willing to throw just about everything we value under a bus to keep this guy in office.
“Is it okay with you that he’s replaced his cabinet with lobbyists from the Oil and Gas industry and rolled back regulations for clean water and air?”
“The economy is doing so well!” they answer.
“Does it bother you that he’s a sexual predator and a cheat who's told more than 10,000 documented lies?” we ask.
Now here’s where their responses vary a bit. Most often, the men begin cursing, calling me things like “Classless bitch,” and “Crazy Cat Lady,” (which is patently false, as we only have five and the unofficial count for CCLs begins at six).
The women, at this point, usually morph into Sunday School teacher mode, which involves the old finger-wagging, “make you wrong” mentality. When pressed further with actual facts, they invariably throw their arms in the air and sputter, “I don’t have time for this!” or “I don’t discuss politics!”
So really, who needs this in a hotel breakfast room, especially the morning after a great concert with Berlin, OMD and The B-52s?
This just in!
Barely 20 minutes after posting this I saw a late model Honda edging slowly up our driveway. They parked and three women got out. One was carrying a Bible. "Hit the decks!" I cried, dropping to the floor in the bedroom. "Jehovah's Witnesses are afoot!" They came up the front walk and knocked a few times before giving up, pressing a small pamphlet in the crack of the door entitled, "Who Really Runs The World?"