Last night as I finished watching the Rachel Maddow show and pulled myself away from The Last Word with Lawrence O'Donnell, I came to the realization that Donald Trump occupies a place in my brain. A large and unwelcome place. Ever since the months before the 2016 election, and especially since I began to read and respond to his obnoxious tweets, he has been there - every day.
I think back on nine presidents I knew superficially in my lifetime: ( I was alive but too young for Truman and Eisenhower) Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Bush1, Clinton, Bush2, and Obama. I never thought about them except during crises, or during the 6:30 news.
Now , Trump is on my mind every day, and sometimes even during the night when I wake up worried. This is so wrong.
If this is true of me, it must be true of many other Americans.
He loves and craves attention. He creates false crises to keep our attention. It's working, and I hate it.
I hate his guts, and pray for his removal from office. I don't like his Vice-President, Pence, but Pence would not behave like this.
Today I am remembering this wonderful ironic poem by Kay Ryan, in which she yearns for an ordinary day without melodrama:
“Blandeur”
If it please God,
let less happen.
Even out Earth’s
rondure, flatten
Eiger, blanden
the Grand Canyon.
Make valleys
slightly higher,
widen fissures
to arable land,
remand your
terrible glaciers
and silence
their calving,
halving or doubling
all geographical features
toward the mean.
Unlean against our hearts.
Withdraw your grandeur
From these parts.
—Kay Ryan
—from Say Uncle
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