Jonathots Daily Blog
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Today: Rich and poor. Republicans and Democrats. Racist and “PLACEIST.” A new word to describe how we deny opportunity to others.
Today: As promised: rich and poor.
America operates under racism and “PLACEISM.” Cring explains what it is.
Jonathots Daily Blog
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A triple threat in alliteration.
She is forty-six years old, the mother of three children who range in age from twenty-one down to a precocious ten.
She is the assistant manager at the local Nordstroms, where she has been employed for twenty years, ascending in the ranks, and well-respected.
Mary was awake early that morning. She had lost her battle with insomnia hours earlier, trying to remain still as a mouse, hoping that sleep would be merciful to her fatigue. Giving up, she rose, made coffee and cinnamon toast—one of her favorites—and prepared for the day in the quiet of a very chilly pre-dawn kitchen.
She had one thought on her mind: should she go vote before work, or wait until afterwards and possibly face long lines?
Actually, that wasn’t the primary question. What had been haunting her mind for weeks was whether she could cast a vote in good conscience either way.
At least, moderate for Michigan.
She had voted for her share of Democrats and a similar array of Republicans. She felt she was informed and believed herself to be open-minded to opportunities offered by both parties. But the past few months had left her in a whirl, dizzy from disjointed facts and accusations.
Donald Trump seemed unqualified to be President, but his journey as a mature man of business seemed respectable.
Hillary Clinton, on the other hand, seemed more prepared for the position, but less sure-footed in the midst of entanglements.
But still, that wasn’t the real problem.
Deep in her heart, Mary of Moncrief, Michigan, felt that everything was just moving too fast.
She wasn’t against progress–she was upset about the speed being used to achieve it.
Abortion, for instance.
Mary believed a woman should have the right to choose the conclusions of her life, but she was uncomfortable about how the subject of abortion—the termination of a fetus—had become so cavalier. She especially hated the phrase, “abortion on demand.”
Wasn’t a little more humility in order?
Mary also knew she didn’t hate gay people. She was one of the first ones in her local church to rally behind the idea of civil unions.
But lickety-split, she was expected to not only honor gay marriage, but to be supportive of it whenever it was brought up, so she wouldn’t come across as a homophobe.
After all, the world of psychology and psychiatry had, for decades if not centuries, contended that homosexuality was aberrant behavior which required treatment.
Now, since that diagnosis had been recently abandoned, they expected Mary and all the American people to quickly shed several generation’s worth of comprehension and join the parade.
Mary wanted equal pay for women in the workplace, but when she rallied with those struggling to achieve this worthy goal, she found herself in the midst of some who decried motherhood and made fun of the simpler values Mary held dear.
Mary was especially troubled by the spiritual indifference, which seemed to reject any soul who believed in God, deeming such a person irrational or uneducated.
Everything was so quick.
Marijuana becoming legal. If marijuana was so safe, why did the people who smoked it always portray it in their movies as a brain-staller—and a pathway leading to no motivation?
Mary of Moncrief, Michigan, was very worried about a man who mocked women, weaker folks and other nationalities with a sneer. But on the other hand, how could she support a woman like Hillary Clinton, who defended her husband’s mistreatment of a twenty-one-year-old intern in the White House, and even to this day, joined into the attacks against poor Monica?
As Mary sipped her coffee in the kitchen, she heard rumblings from the bedrooms above.
Soon her family would join her. Her thoughts would be blended with their desires.
Realizing how important her decision was, she scurried around, deciding to leave for work, going to the polls early to beat the rush.
She called out her good-byes and best wishes for the day, jogged to her car, got in and drove off.
She was nearly to the polling station when she veered off at a graveyard. She sat, staring at the frosty granite stones. Still they were—and at peace.
In a moment of deep reflection, she asked herself what all these people who had once lived would want her to do.
Who would they want her to vote for?
Mary just wished that one of those who wanted to be President of the United States would acknowledge that affairs, nations, wars and social revisions were happening at such a rapid pace that we all needed a deep breath—just to appreciate where we are, who we are and what we’re about to undertake.
Was there an order in it?
It all seemed to be happening at the same time.
Was she supposed to feel some beckoning or even a requirement to vote for a woman since she was a woman herself? Maybe she would have felt differently if Hillary had even visited Michigan—instead of assuming that the unions and the black vote “had it in the bag.”
The Democrats took too much for granted, and the Republicans granted so very little.
Time was passing.
She had a tiny window—about twenty minutes—to go vote and still get to Nordstroms for her shift.
But after weeks—perhaps months—of deliberation, she was no further along.
So she made a very quick decision in her troubled mind.
That night, as Mary of Moncrief, Michigan, watched the election returns, she was so troubled that she felt a chill go down her spine.
Donald Trump was winning. Would he rise to the occasion and be a great President?
Should Hillary have been the one?
Even though the campaign had drug on for more than a year-and-a-half, now it all seemed to be too quick. Too speedy.
Mary was not a bigot.
Mary was not conservative.
Mary was certainly not liberal either—not by present standards.
But Mary also didn’t favor people just because they were of a certain color or even just because they were victimized.
As the night wore on, it gradually became more obvious and then official.
Mary didn’t know what to feel.
Maybe she was a little relieved that there wouldn’t be any more Clintons in Washington, but also a bit frightened that a real estate developer would be leading the greatest nation on Earth.
But most of all, she was in turmoil about herself.
Jonathots Daily Blog
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It seems to be the catch phrase of the day.
Yet hearing it sprouts questions which ping-pong in my brain.
What if I didn’t care about the old normal?
What if I found it obtuse?
What if I found myself alienated from a society that was too frightened of aliens?
What if I don’t want to return to what we had?
The braggadocio attitudes of small-minded humans being given platforms to scream their ridiculous claims and espouse horrific prejudices does not seem to be the “normal” where I can be normal.
What should we do with it?
You should do what you deem necessary.
There are too many things I believe in that have sharp edges which cut and hurt other humans.
I’ve worked on it for many years, but my blades still extend.
I must take a pause from my cause.
Can I suggest to you that this is a possible alternative to meaningless repetition? For instance:
My brothers and sisters who are Republicans may want smaller government and less interference, but keep in mind that the stimulus check still arrived at a sweet moment.
How about you Democrats take a pause from your guilt trip—blaming others of wealth and substance for every evil that has befallen the Earth?
And you, committed to pro-life, standing firm against abortion, must at least pause and consider what you would do if your sixteen-year-old daughter came to you with the results of a drug store pregnancy test, and her only excuse was that she was told “if you drink lots of lemon juice, you can’t get pregnant?”
Yes, God bless America, you patriots, but keep this in mind: your family does not live in a war zone, where the danger of being blown up, ravaged or murdered are a constant threat after your meager dinner is consumed.
Mr. Macho–what do you think it would be like to be pawed at and disrespected all the time, while your abilities were set to the side in deference to discussing your rack?
And my sisters may want to mull how their brothers have to battle testosterone and the urge to be overly aggressive with physical prowess.
Whether it’s black or whether it’s white, take a pause and channel the other color. If it’s yellow or it’s red, consider what it’s like to wear the skin of another.
Those who are heterosexual—do they really believe the gay community is embroiled in perversion, or, just like you and me, in search of a defining love?
And can the poor man and woman understand that not all money is inherited? Some of the green stuff is procured by “greening” a great idea–and patiently working it as it grows.
I am not ready to find a new normal.
And I am certainly unwilling to return to the old.
For before this virus, we had grown much too cynical and selfish, welcoming back into our hearts latent racism, causing us to be pious about our own ignorance.
Jonathots Daily Blog
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The meek will inherit
Because they’re willing to share it
We have begun to believe that December can be filled with our foolishness and chicanery, when during that thirty days, the Earth always takes a collective gasp for air, so that we can survive the rest of our yearly journey.
But now, we have instead decided to go politically crazy, emotionally distraught and spiritually bankrupt.
A seventeen-year-old boy decides to take the family car to a party and does some illegal drinking. Coming out, he gets behind the wheel and drives the car home, where he finds his mother and father waiting for him at the door, unable to deny his intoxication.
But let’s say that same young man went to the party, got just as drunk and drove home, but on the way to his house, crashed his car into a tree. A half-hour later, his parents arrive at the police station to retrieve him.
Just for the sake of discussion, back to that same young man, same party, same drunkenness—but this time, on the drive home he hits a young boy on a bicycle and kills him.
I present these three scenarios to you because we need to discuss some differences among the words errant, mistake and crime.
To the legalist or someone who is toeing the letter of the law, I suppose the boy who arrives home in his car intoxicated is committing a crime. But dare I say, there probably is not a mother or father in America who would view it that way.
They would recognize the behavior as “errant.” It would need to be corrected in-house.
Yet these same parents would probably not consider crashing into a tree to merely be errant. They wouldn’t call it a crime—they would say it was a mistake. Once again, punishment would be in order.
But the parents would have no say whatsoever in the matter if their son killed somebody while drunk. That would be considered by one and all to be a crime.
Whether you consider what he did with Ukraine to be errant behavior, a mistake or a crime, the populace will need to sustain that opinion.
Yet what is missing is acknowledgment.
No one has admitted errant behavior or a mistake, so it begins to feel like a crime.
Here’s the question:
We will probably never know—because he refuses to admit his part in the problem.
It makes me downright sad.
Republicans are all about “hometown.”
Democrats, on the other hand, are about the Earth.
Doggone it, I like them all.
I want to treat the Earth well. So why don’t I come back to my hometown and get started?
It’s sad that we have two great forces that fight against one another instead of turning the Earth into a marvelous hometown.
But it is maddening that none of this can happen because the ability to confess our faults has diminished until it seems to have finally disappeared.
I don’t want to live in a world that is constantly misshapen, out of step, angry and frustrated simply because we think it’s weak to admit our missteps.
What a great time to come along and stand in front of your friends and proclaim your foibles without fear.
Because you know what makes me glad?
Not even an impeachment, violence, partisan politics and hours of boring hearings on television can dim the power and spirit of Christmas.
It’s a glorious time. And it doesn’t go away unless we chase it away.
It is bad that we cannot decide what has happened with our President.
It makes me sad that our Republicans and Democrats don’t know how perfect they would be together.
And I’m mad that we don’t confess our faults to be healed.
But I’m glad it’s December:
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