It’s Sunday and it’s raining. Since I’ve already read Insane Clown President by Matt Taibbi…I don’t need to reread it. I already feel as if I have a doctorate in chasing a pathological liar down rabbit holes. So what would be the point?
I like to reflect on Sundays if possible. Have some coffee and think about how in my own way I can hopefully become a better person with each day I have left on this level of existence.
To make sure my better angels are pointed in the right direction. To make sure I get up every morning and live the Golden Rule. To be a good Samaritan. To be decent, kind, and thinking of others around me in my own personal universe.
This used to be such a basic axiom of the American way. I won’t allow Donald Trump to change me even though I now drive around Oklahoma City with a Putin-trump 2020 sign in the bed of my pickup.
My mother is having difficulty leaving her Putin yard sign in her lawn because she doesn’t want to hurt Harold’s feelings. Harold is her immediate neighbor to her east and is a Trump voter despite the fact he once told me he despises everything about the man. How that correlates into a Trump vote is beyond me other than the fact this is Oklahoma.
Harold has been a champion since my father’s death in August of 2016. He looks out for my mother. He takes her garbage cans to the curb on Tuesday mornings. Helps her with things when either me or my brother aren’t immediately there to help. Harold was at my father’s service and we made eye contact several times. I love everything about Harold except for the fact he voted for Donald Trump.
Harold clearly has better angels.
But as I told my mom, “Maybe the yard sign will help Harold come to terms with the douchebag Trump. Maybe the sign will be that flash of genius moment for Harold and others who drive down the street. Maybe.”
So it’s Sunday and instead of transfixing on everything Deplorable my post today will center on why in America this is how we should treat our neighbors even when we don’t agree with them on things of a political nature.
We should treat our neighbors with respect.
At some point on here I’ll start writing about Shai Gilgous-Alexander and what it must feel like to be a young black Canadian exiled to the now tanking Oklahoma City Thunder. I bet he was thrilled when he heard of the trade. That was sarcasm.
But for the time being I think I’ll be more focused on what it means to be an American.