Today began with a three hour visit with my friend Eric, incarcerated in Ohio's Grafton Correctional Institution. He's been there more than two decades. He said something this morning that seemed appropriate for Good Friday, though I didn't recognize it until during worship this evening.
Eric told me that someone once told him that he needed, in prison, to live each day as if he were going to "go home" (be released) tomorrow. He called it the best advice he'd ever been given.
Somehow we got distracted from what should have been an obvious follow-up conversation about what that advice means to him. But on my drive home I thought about what living every day like that might mean to him: to live as if tomorrow he will be free and ready to take his place in society; to do what he can today to prepare for what he most dearly hopes for in the future; to be able to move into new life without regret or remorse. Eric has always seemed to me to live that way, and maybe now I know why.
Tonight's Good Friday service was beautiful, as Episcopal services, I am learning, tend to be. Long, yes, (as Episcopal services also tend to be) but filled with powerful, compelling, poetic words and soul-touching music and rich symbolism and actions.
In some strange long-distance leap from Grafton's visitation room to that classic, colonial American-like sanctuary, I heard Eric's words: "Live each day as if you are going home tomorrow."
Somehow the rituals of these somber services of Holy Week prepare us for the joy of Easter. But by Easter I mean not just the day after tomorrow, but tomorrow itself. They help us taste the freedom for which we devoutly long, to do what we need to do to live the kingdom of God in whose midst we are, to live forgiven of regret and liberated from remorse. Eric's advice from prison is good advice to all who live in prisons that keep us from real life.
At the end of the service worshippers were invited to come forward "to offer their adoration of the Cross by touching it and offering silent prayer." The Cross in question was a simple wooden one with a symbolic "crown of thorns" hanging from its crossed beams. From the choir area I watched worshippers come forward, almost lean on the cross and silently pray. (We were leading the congregation in singing, "My Song is Love Unknown.")
Toward the end a man with a maybe three-year-old child in his arms came forward to touch the cross. First he touched it, and then he guided her hand to touch it, too. He was white, the child was black. I don't know their story. I do know the scene brought tears to my eyes. Not just, perhaps, father and daughter, but also white and black. I know she learned a whole lot of real Christian theology tonight. And I know that they are ready for God's realm of peace, justice, and freedom that is at hand–so near they reached out together and touched it.
Friday, April 14, 2017
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
When Our President Gets Generous, Hold On to Your Wallet
I am amused and appalled by Donald Trump's donation of his first quarter's presidential salary to the National Park Service. That comes to $78,333, a pittance given his administration's proposed $1.5 billion cut in the Park Service's funding for the coming fiscal year. It's even a pittance compared to $229 million, which is how much Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke says the Service is behind "in deferred maintenance on our battlefields alone." Trump designated his "gift" for historic battlefield maintenance.
If he'd given the NPS the value of the perks and benefits he's received in flitting back and forth to Florida and in maintaining and protecting luxury homes for his far-flung family this might be a different story. Perhaps it would provide enough money to remove all references to "climate change" from all Park Service signs and publications, no doubt a costly project. But perhaps ExxonMobile is underwriting it already.
Of course, Trump's minions made a big deal of it. Smilin' Sean Spicer presided over the giving of the check to Secretary Zinke, who was accompanied by Harpers Ferry National Historical Park Superintendent Tyrone Brandyburg, who just happens to appear to be black! A perfect photo op if the world ever saw one.
President Trump's gift is amusing, but in an appalling sort of way. The president who is hellbent on turning our Park Service, and many other beneficial government agencies, into charity cases, donates money that means nothing to him to the maintenance of historic battlefields. Battlefields . . . lest anyone doubt his love for military spending.
He turns the National Park Service into a plaything for him to be "generous" to, or not, upon his whim. Take away $1.5 billion here, put in $78 thousand there. Enough $78 thousands gifts and you might get to $1.5 billion some day, or even to $229 million.
What a joke. When will everyone see the sham and shame this guy represents?
If he'd given the NPS the value of the perks and benefits he's received in flitting back and forth to Florida and in maintaining and protecting luxury homes for his far-flung family this might be a different story. Perhaps it would provide enough money to remove all references to "climate change" from all Park Service signs and publications, no doubt a costly project. But perhaps ExxonMobile is underwriting it already.
Of course, Trump's minions made a big deal of it. Smilin' Sean Spicer presided over the giving of the check to Secretary Zinke, who was accompanied by Harpers Ferry National Historical Park Superintendent Tyrone Brandyburg, who just happens to appear to be black! A perfect photo op if the world ever saw one.
President Trump's gift is amusing, but in an appalling sort of way. The president who is hellbent on turning our Park Service, and many other beneficial government agencies, into charity cases, donates money that means nothing to him to the maintenance of historic battlefields. Battlefields . . . lest anyone doubt his love for military spending.
He turns the National Park Service into a plaything for him to be "generous" to, or not, upon his whim. Take away $1.5 billion here, put in $78 thousand there. Enough $78 thousands gifts and you might get to $1.5 billion some day, or even to $229 million.
What a joke. When will everyone see the sham and shame this guy represents?
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
What Facts Support the President's Environmental Actions?
If I thought anything President Trump and his administration are doing was based upon facts, or even informed observation, I'd be more likely to be giving him a chance.
For example, his actions yesterday regarding the environment and global climate change: the vast majority of experts in those fields are convinced that those actions fly in the face of facts.
(Disclaimer: majorities can be wrong, and the "vast majority" of environmental and climate change experts might be wrong. But the rigors of the scientific method, which include the verification by others of observations and conclusions, have proven over time to provide reliable information, information upon which we can base informed decisions. Yes, new information can alter or even disprove previously-held conclusions. That's the way of science. But in many situations we must make our best decisions now based upon what we know now, because the future can't wait.)
So, whose verified or at least potentially verifiable research did the Trump team cite to justify pulling back on President Obama's environmental policies or reopening the way to increased use of coal and other fossil fuels? Who is saying that pumping more CO2 into the atmosphere will not hasten the onslaught of the most drastic effects of climate change, evidence of which we are already seeing around the globe, not to mention in our own backyards, this March of 2017? Which economists (those practitioners of what someone once called 'the dismal science') believe that government deregulation will revive the struggling coal industry?
The rest of the world, including even China, is positioning itself to move toward a future of cleaner energy, while the United States seeks to revive the towering smokestacks that once dotted our skylines and filled our lungs with deadly particles and poisons.
I believe we can protect the environment, can possibly manage climate change, and can create and maintain good jobs. But not by increasing our use of fossil fuels. Trump's actions encourage the fossil fuel industry that helped elect him and they encourage the short term interests of people like me who prosper when the markets go up. But they are not good for our children or grandchildren. And the coal fields of Appalachia will remain as depressed as they are.
Today's Plain Dealer reports that a Cleveland City Councilman is on his way to Washington to try to counter the planned near-destruction of the EPA by President Trump and the Secretary of the Late EPA. What better messenger can there be than one whose city's "burning river" proved to be the flame that ignited the largely bipartisan environmental protection movement that cleaned up the Cuyahoga River and much, much more?
Your thoughtful and informed responses will be welcomed.
For example, his actions yesterday regarding the environment and global climate change: the vast majority of experts in those fields are convinced that those actions fly in the face of facts.
(Disclaimer: majorities can be wrong, and the "vast majority" of environmental and climate change experts might be wrong. But the rigors of the scientific method, which include the verification by others of observations and conclusions, have proven over time to provide reliable information, information upon which we can base informed decisions. Yes, new information can alter or even disprove previously-held conclusions. That's the way of science. But in many situations we must make our best decisions now based upon what we know now, because the future can't wait.)
So, whose verified or at least potentially verifiable research did the Trump team cite to justify pulling back on President Obama's environmental policies or reopening the way to increased use of coal and other fossil fuels? Who is saying that pumping more CO2 into the atmosphere will not hasten the onslaught of the most drastic effects of climate change, evidence of which we are already seeing around the globe, not to mention in our own backyards, this March of 2017? Which economists (those practitioners of what someone once called 'the dismal science') believe that government deregulation will revive the struggling coal industry?
The rest of the world, including even China, is positioning itself to move toward a future of cleaner energy, while the United States seeks to revive the towering smokestacks that once dotted our skylines and filled our lungs with deadly particles and poisons.
I believe we can protect the environment, can possibly manage climate change, and can create and maintain good jobs. But not by increasing our use of fossil fuels. Trump's actions encourage the fossil fuel industry that helped elect him and they encourage the short term interests of people like me who prosper when the markets go up. But they are not good for our children or grandchildren. And the coal fields of Appalachia will remain as depressed as they are.
Today's Plain Dealer reports that a Cleveland City Councilman is on his way to Washington to try to counter the planned near-destruction of the EPA by President Trump and the Secretary of the Late EPA. What better messenger can there be than one whose city's "burning river" proved to be the flame that ignited the largely bipartisan environmental protection movement that cleaned up the Cuyahoga River and much, much more?
Your thoughtful and informed responses will be welcomed.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Gunboat Diplomcy
We probably will not see any large demonstrations in favor of restoring cuts in State Department funding to the budget President Trump has sent to Congress. Who cares about a bunch of diplomats putting in their time on foreign affairs when we've got the USA to take care of?
There might be a few little shows of complaint about cutting back on "foreign aid." But again, who wants to give anything to anybody but us, even the teeny, tiny little bit we presently give? Let them take care of themselves.
There no doubt will be (and is already) quite a hue and cry regarding the massive increase in "defense" (i.e., "war") spending, but we really, really need that...or do we? Does that 10%/$54,000,000,000 increase have any verifiable rationale behind it, or is it just a number that sounded good to the folks in the White House? It will certainly play in Peoria, and wherever tanks and boats are made.
So, we cut back on our ability to know and analyze what's happening around the world, to craft strong AND thoughtful responses to challenges when necessary, to make friends by showing ordinary people in faraway lands that we are generous nation, to do the hard work of making peace...and then, when we end up with no apparent option but military force, we blame everyone else for forcing us into wars that sacrifice American blood and waste American treasure.
All this, like so much else these days, makes no sense whatsoever, and is a disgrace for our nation.
There might be a few little shows of complaint about cutting back on "foreign aid." But again, who wants to give anything to anybody but us, even the teeny, tiny little bit we presently give? Let them take care of themselves.
There no doubt will be (and is already) quite a hue and cry regarding the massive increase in "defense" (i.e., "war") spending, but we really, really need that...or do we? Does that 10%/$54,000,000,000 increase have any verifiable rationale behind it, or is it just a number that sounded good to the folks in the White House? It will certainly play in Peoria, and wherever tanks and boats are made.
So, we cut back on our ability to know and analyze what's happening around the world, to craft strong AND thoughtful responses to challenges when necessary, to make friends by showing ordinary people in faraway lands that we are generous nation, to do the hard work of making peace...and then, when we end up with no apparent option but military force, we blame everyone else for forcing us into wars that sacrifice American blood and waste American treasure.
All this, like so much else these days, makes no sense whatsoever, and is a disgrace for our nation.
Saturday, March 4, 2017
Song of the Earth
Song of the Earth
I write about an experience that I really cannot put into words. That experience was at a concert of music that perhaps 99.9% of the population does not know.
I do not intend to sound "elitist" in making such a judgment. Indeed I, despite having been aware of the music for decades, never understood it in the way I understood it at that moment. I barely understood it at all. Nor did I feel what I take to be its "message" until that night, that moment, at that concert. (Even these words are inadequate.)
I will begin with a confession: I've always had more than a little trouble with Christian teachings on the resurrection. I know I should have always been certain about resurrection–both the resurrection of Jesus and the resurrection of individuals–because I have, in my role as a pastor, often stood firm on the subject in the presence of others. People no doubt thought I was certain. Fortunately, there are biblical and liturgical words as well as prayers that make it easy to sound certain, because they sound certain. I just had to read them with conviction.
Unfortunately, from my standpoint, much of what has found its way into our prayers and into our liturgies and into our common cultural understanding of resurrection is either quite unbiblical, or at best a tiny minority report within the greater biblical witness. It is also hard to make sense of.
I have great problems, both theologically and personally, with the soul-body dichotomy that comforts many. I cannot wrap my mind around notions of a heavenly dwelling place for disembodied spirits somewhere "up there." I struggle with the idea that eternity has the wherewithal to judge lives bound by constraints of time and space. I don't know what eternity with "all the saints" would actually be or feel like (should I make it into that great company), and seriously doubt that I would have the patience to live with so august a gathering for that long. And though I like to sing, I would hope there are long breaks in the rehearsals and concerts of the heavenly choirs.
I've gone from fairly serious to fairly silly in the above, but you may get the idea: I am not comfortable with somehow being split in two so that the two halves of me end up forever totally separated from each other. I am not comforted by the thought of being thus divided. I think, I feel, I know that soul and body are each integral to who I am. Resurrection without both (or all) parts of me makes no sense to me.
Anyway, the concert I speak of was by the Cleveland Orchestra last month. Under the direction of guest conductor Donald Runnicles, and featuring mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung and tenor Paul Groves, the Orchestra performed Gustav Mahler's Song of the Earth.
If I haven't lost you yet, hang on, and I will do my best to keep you in the fold.
Gustav Mahler wrote really long, really complex music in which he tried to sort out the meaning of life and of death. Song of the Earth was composed in 1908, and takes around a hour to perform. Its words are from the works of a German named Hans Bethge, who creatively reworked them from "classic Chinese poems." In Mahler's hands, Bethge's poems are about life and death...no, they are about life that dies. Or about death that lives. In the earth.
Here's another confession those of you who do know Song of the Earth will probably chuckle over, because it reveals how limited my appreciation of music can be: I've had recordings of Song of the Earth for maybe 40 years: an old, old LP, and a much newer CD. I've listened to it now and then and tried to follow it and understand it, but never really got into it until last month. Maybe I wasn't ready for it until that night I sat still for an hour and concentrated on it (concentration is a life-long problem of mine).
I listened hard to it, and this is what I think I heard: The hope for us is in return to the earth, in return to the soil, in return–body and soul–to the land from which we came. "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," as the liturgy says, reflecting the Genesis 2 creation account, and the New Testament assurance of the redemption of the earth, of "all things," in Jesus Christ.
Or, as the priest assured me Wednesday night as he crossed ashes my forehead, "From dust you have come; to dust you shall return."
The final words of the Mahler's Song of the Earth are these, sung exquisitely last month by Michelle DeYoung:
Where am I heading? I go, I wander into the mountains.
I seek peace for my lonely heart.
I go to my native land, my home!
I shall never roam in distant lands.
My heart is quiet, and awaiting its hour!
The beloved earth everywhere blossoms forth in spring and greens anew!
Everywhere and forever the horizon brightens to blue!
Forever...forever...
As "forever" (German ewig) faded, I felt a comfort about my place in eternity that I cannot recall ever before feeling, a comfort and a peace about death that I cannot put into words. Did hints of the texture and smell of the good, rich soil of my native Iowa make their way into my subconscious? Was that the peace beyond my understanding? I do not know. I cannot put it into words.
Does what I have dared confess and affirm in this essay cast doubt on my identity as a Christian? I don't really think so. The claim–my lifelong conviction–of God's incarnation in Jesus the human being makes me think that what I am questioning and finding is very much Christian.
I have no illusions that I've experienced anything new (as evidence, the Wendell Berry quote at the top). But that experience and the way I felt it was and is new to me. It comforts me. I am consoled.
The soil is the great connector of lives, the source and destination of all. It is the healer and restorer and resurrector, by which disease passes into health, age into youth, death into life. Without proper care for it we can have no community, because without proper care for it we can have no life.
Wendell Berry
I write about an experience that I really cannot put into words. That experience was at a concert of music that perhaps 99.9% of the population does not know.
I do not intend to sound "elitist" in making such a judgment. Indeed I, despite having been aware of the music for decades, never understood it in the way I understood it at that moment. I barely understood it at all. Nor did I feel what I take to be its "message" until that night, that moment, at that concert. (Even these words are inadequate.)
I will begin with a confession: I've always had more than a little trouble with Christian teachings on the resurrection. I know I should have always been certain about resurrection–both the resurrection of Jesus and the resurrection of individuals–because I have, in my role as a pastor, often stood firm on the subject in the presence of others. People no doubt thought I was certain. Fortunately, there are biblical and liturgical words as well as prayers that make it easy to sound certain, because they sound certain. I just had to read them with conviction.
Unfortunately, from my standpoint, much of what has found its way into our prayers and into our liturgies and into our common cultural understanding of resurrection is either quite unbiblical, or at best a tiny minority report within the greater biblical witness. It is also hard to make sense of.
I have great problems, both theologically and personally, with the soul-body dichotomy that comforts many. I cannot wrap my mind around notions of a heavenly dwelling place for disembodied spirits somewhere "up there." I struggle with the idea that eternity has the wherewithal to judge lives bound by constraints of time and space. I don't know what eternity with "all the saints" would actually be or feel like (should I make it into that great company), and seriously doubt that I would have the patience to live with so august a gathering for that long. And though I like to sing, I would hope there are long breaks in the rehearsals and concerts of the heavenly choirs.
I've gone from fairly serious to fairly silly in the above, but you may get the idea: I am not comfortable with somehow being split in two so that the two halves of me end up forever totally separated from each other. I am not comforted by the thought of being thus divided. I think, I feel, I know that soul and body are each integral to who I am. Resurrection without both (or all) parts of me makes no sense to me.
Anyway, the concert I speak of was by the Cleveland Orchestra last month. Under the direction of guest conductor Donald Runnicles, and featuring mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung and tenor Paul Groves, the Orchestra performed Gustav Mahler's Song of the Earth.
If I haven't lost you yet, hang on, and I will do my best to keep you in the fold.
Gustav Mahler wrote really long, really complex music in which he tried to sort out the meaning of life and of death. Song of the Earth was composed in 1908, and takes around a hour to perform. Its words are from the works of a German named Hans Bethge, who creatively reworked them from "classic Chinese poems." In Mahler's hands, Bethge's poems are about life and death...no, they are about life that dies. Or about death that lives. In the earth.
Here's another confession those of you who do know Song of the Earth will probably chuckle over, because it reveals how limited my appreciation of music can be: I've had recordings of Song of the Earth for maybe 40 years: an old, old LP, and a much newer CD. I've listened to it now and then and tried to follow it and understand it, but never really got into it until last month. Maybe I wasn't ready for it until that night I sat still for an hour and concentrated on it (concentration is a life-long problem of mine).
I listened hard to it, and this is what I think I heard: The hope for us is in return to the earth, in return to the soil, in return–body and soul–to the land from which we came. "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," as the liturgy says, reflecting the Genesis 2 creation account, and the New Testament assurance of the redemption of the earth, of "all things," in Jesus Christ.
Or, as the priest assured me Wednesday night as he crossed ashes my forehead, "From dust you have come; to dust you shall return."
The final words of the Mahler's Song of the Earth are these, sung exquisitely last month by Michelle DeYoung:
Where am I heading? I go, I wander into the mountains.
I seek peace for my lonely heart.
I go to my native land, my home!
I shall never roam in distant lands.
My heart is quiet, and awaiting its hour!
The beloved earth everywhere blossoms forth in spring and greens anew!
Everywhere and forever the horizon brightens to blue!
Forever...forever...
As "forever" (German ewig) faded, I felt a comfort about my place in eternity that I cannot recall ever before feeling, a comfort and a peace about death that I cannot put into words. Did hints of the texture and smell of the good, rich soil of my native Iowa make their way into my subconscious? Was that the peace beyond my understanding? I do not know. I cannot put it into words.
Does what I have dared confess and affirm in this essay cast doubt on my identity as a Christian? I don't really think so. The claim–my lifelong conviction–of God's incarnation in Jesus the human being makes me think that what I am questioning and finding is very much Christian.
I have no illusions that I've experienced anything new (as evidence, the Wendell Berry quote at the top). But that experience and the way I felt it was and is new to me. It comforts me. I am consoled.
Thursday, February 9, 2017
Serious Thoughts While Celebrating My Birthday
Today is my birthday, and I should be posting something light and positive. Certainly the past year of my life has brought me a lot of personal joy and satisfaction. I am grateful to be alive and reasonably healthy. I am grateful for every member of my family, and for my friends.
But I’ve always been a fairly serious person, with an eye turned upon the larger context within which we all live. So the reflections that follow are dark, because I believe our context is darkening quickly.
One of the more troubling ads from last year's presidential campaign featured an American immigrant praising the wonders of our nation and its freedoms. He had obviously been here a long time. Toward the end, as he was summing up his feelings, he called the Second Amendment to our Constitution the basis of these freedoms.
I was stunned. Guns, in the hands of citizens (even a citizens’ militia), are the foundation of freedom in our democracy?
A gun is a weapon. It is an instrument of bodily injury and death. I assume even the most ardent gun enthusiast fears a loaded gun aimed at his or her heart.
The basis of our liberty is guns, and the fear and death they bring with them?
I was raised with the conviction that the basis of our liberty is the rule of law...that the framers of our Declaration of Independence and the authors of our Constitution struggled mightily to replace the power of kings and princes with the greater power of words. Not just any words, but words carefully constructed and mutually agreed upon to represent their best attempt to provide a basis for a fair, just, secure, and peaceable society. It was to be a society in which all could participate equally as common citizens, in which no one was above anyone else by virtue of birth or station in life, and in which every man, woman, and child and her or his dreams and hopes were respected. The founders’ words did not guarantee anyone's success, but they did attempt to guarantee everyone’s right to have a shot at success.
Of course, our founders tended to define "everyone" shamefully narrowly. “White, male, landowners” was one way it was put. It was not the best or most generous way to define “everyone.” Enlightened legislators and passionate agitators and a bloody Civil War determined it was also not the final way to define “everyone.” We have traveled a long, long path. Mostly by law, though sometimes with the prompting of guns. But in the end law prevailed. We remain a constitutional republic, under the rule of law, not of individuals. We are still on the path.
Many are wary about where this path has taken us in the last 40 or 50 years. Perhaps you are. “Wariness” is caution about a thing or a situation, perhaps a lesser form of fear. I understand that many Americans who see things differently than I do are wary, fearful even. Socialist Bernie Sanders strikes fear in many hearts, as does "crooked" Hillary. The threats, real or overblown, of gun confiscation, of no choice of doctors, of jobs that don't pay well when they are available at all, of children’s education being limited to public schools, of a truly multi-cultural and multi-racial and multi-religious America…these and many other fears coalesced to put Donald Trump in the White House. I can understand that many people are wary about these and other things.
This is my invitation: tell me more about what you are afraid of, and I will try to understand you better. If you will allow me, I will even share my point of view with you. I disrespect no person because of their opinion and outlook.
But this is what I fear barely three weeks into Donald Trump's presidency and the Republican party's dominance across the nation. Will you give me a moment to hear me?
I fear the collapse of the rule of law, and descent into a sort of vigilantism that ruled in "the old West." I fear the demise of respect for true learning and education, with broadside the attacks on science and scientific method and public education. I fear the shredding of a truly free press, starting at the top with a President more concerned with what is said about him than with what he actually says. I abhor the denigration of women as well as of minorities of all sorts, who are where they are today because of hard-fought battles to secure their rightful place in American society. I am wary of the demeaning of the judiciary and of judges by our President when they dare to interpret the law as they see it. I disdain walls built to keep people apart because of their skin color, economic status, religion, or national origin. I weep over the blatant rape of our natural world in the quest for more wealth for a few.
I am terrified that in our fear we have forgotten that in the end, we all have to live together, as “one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
But more than any of those, and perhaps underlying them all, I fear the carelessness, the callousness, the seemingly-calculated clumsiness of our current crop of political leaders and institutions, which intentionally or not make mockery of government "of, by, and for the people." Yes, I fear some Democrats almost as much as I fear most Republicans. But on the whole I feel as if our nation is victim of a terror attack from within, from this President and his appointees and this Congress, and the terror I feel is real. It is a terror far beyond wariness, even beyond mere fear.
If I owned a gun, perhaps, I would feel better. But probably not. I feel people who share my fears are faced with a powerful opposition that has been led to believe that the basis of our freedoms is guns in the hands of as many as possible. And that opposition holds those guns. That is not freedom, certainly not for me. It's anarchy. And anarchy is not pretty, no matter how rosily it is idealized by some.
Today I turn 74 years old. I claim that's old enough to have some perspective on American history. This is it: I have never been more afraid for the land of my birth, for the land I love, for the United States of America, than I am today. Give me reason to feel otherwise, if you can. Give me reason to be confident of our future as a free people.
I’m serious about this.
Thursday, February 2, 2017
Am I Proud that Donald Trump is President?
In a word, my answer is "no." Which you probably knew already.
Some of my Facebook friends keep asking me, forwarding to me boilerplate posts to which they hope I will "like," or maybe even "love." What I really want to do is "weep," but that would attract the kind of attention none of us needs. So I scroll through them.
But I am not proud that Donald Trump is President. If for no other reason that what he said to a White House gathering to mark the beginning of Black History month, which I will paste here for all to read. And weep.
Well, the election, it came out really well. Next time we’ll triple the number or quadruple it. We want to get it over 51, right? At least 51.
Well this is Black History Month, so this is our little breakfast, our little get-together. Hi Lynn, how are you? Just a few notes. During this month, we honor the tremendous history of African-Americans throughout our country. Throughout the world, if you really think about it, right? And their story is one of unimaginable sacrifice, hard work, and faith in America. I’ve gotten a real glimpse—during the campaign, I’d go around with Ben to a lot of different places I wasn’t so familiar with. They’re incredible people. And I want to thank Ben Carson, who’s gonna be heading up HUD. That’s a big job. That’s a job that’s not only housing, but it’s mind and spirit. Right, Ben? And you understand, nobody’s gonna be better than Ben.
Last month, we celebrated the life of Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., whose incredible example is unique in American history. You read all about Dr. Martin Luther King a week ago when somebody said I took the statue out of my office. It turned out that that was fake news. Fake news. The statue is cherished, it’s one of the favorite things in the—and we have some good ones. We have Lincoln, and we have Jefferson, and we have Dr. Martin Luther King. But they said the statue, the bust of Martin Luther King, was taken out of the office. And it was never even touched. So I think it was a disgrace, but that’s the way the press is. Very unfortunate.
I am very proud now that we have a museum on the National Mall where people can learn about Reverend King, so many other things. Frederick Douglass is an example of somebody who’s done an amazing job and is being recognized more and more, I noticed. Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks, and millions more black Americans who made America what it is today. Big impact.
I’m proud to honor this heritage and will be honoring it more and more. The folks at the table in almost all cases have been great friends and supporters. Darrell—I met Darrell when he was defending me on television. And the people that were on the other side of the argument didn’t have a chance, right? And Paris has done an amazing job in a very hostile CNN community. He’s all by himself. You’ll have seven people, and Paris. And I’ll take Paris over the seven. But I don’t watch CNN, so I don’t get to see you as much as I used to. I don’t like watching fake news. But Fox has treated me very nice. Wherever Fox is, thank you.
We’re gonna need better schools and we need them soon. We need more jobs, we need better wages, a lot better wages. We’re gonna work very hard on the inner city. Ben is gonna be doing that, big league. That’s one of the big things that you’re gonna be looking at. We need safer communities and we’re going to do that with law enforcement. We’re gonna make it safe. We’re gonna make it much better than it is right now. Right now it’s terrible, and I saw you talking about it the other night, Paris, on something else that was really—you did a fantastic job the other night on a very unrelated show.
I’m ready to do my part, and I will say this: We’re gonna work together. This is a great group, this is a group that’s been so special to me. You really helped me a lot. If you remember I wasn’t going to do well with the African-American community, and after they heard me speaking and talking about the inner city and lots of other things, we ended up getting—and I won’t go into details—but we ended up getting substantially more than other candidates who had run in the past years. And now we’re gonna take that to new levels. I want to thank my television star over here—Omarosa’s actually a very nice person, nobody knows that. I don’t want to destroy her reputation but she’s a very good person, and she’s been helpful right from the beginning of the campaign, and I appreciate it. I really do. Very special.
So I want to thank everybody for being here.
— President Donald Trump, celebrating Black History Month 02-01-2017.
Does this kind of thing matter? Does the ability to speak in sentences make a difference? Is it a concern when he keeps reminding folks that he won the election and that the press is his enemy? Yes, it does when he is the President of the United States. Taken together it is a sign that he is a man ripe for being controlled and misled by those around him if they seem to agree with his unformed and uninformed thoughts.
And then there's that phone conversation with Australia's Prime Minister.
Me, proud? Sorry, can't say that I am.
Some of my Facebook friends keep asking me, forwarding to me boilerplate posts to which they hope I will "like," or maybe even "love." What I really want to do is "weep," but that would attract the kind of attention none of us needs. So I scroll through them.
But I am not proud that Donald Trump is President. If for no other reason that what he said to a White House gathering to mark the beginning of Black History month, which I will paste here for all to read. And weep.
Well, the election, it came out really well. Next time we’ll triple the number or quadruple it. We want to get it over 51, right? At least 51.
Well this is Black History Month, so this is our little breakfast, our little get-together. Hi Lynn, how are you? Just a few notes. During this month, we honor the tremendous history of African-Americans throughout our country. Throughout the world, if you really think about it, right? And their story is one of unimaginable sacrifice, hard work, and faith in America. I’ve gotten a real glimpse—during the campaign, I’d go around with Ben to a lot of different places I wasn’t so familiar with. They’re incredible people. And I want to thank Ben Carson, who’s gonna be heading up HUD. That’s a big job. That’s a job that’s not only housing, but it’s mind and spirit. Right, Ben? And you understand, nobody’s gonna be better than Ben.
Last month, we celebrated the life of Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., whose incredible example is unique in American history. You read all about Dr. Martin Luther King a week ago when somebody said I took the statue out of my office. It turned out that that was fake news. Fake news. The statue is cherished, it’s one of the favorite things in the—and we have some good ones. We have Lincoln, and we have Jefferson, and we have Dr. Martin Luther King. But they said the statue, the bust of Martin Luther King, was taken out of the office. And it was never even touched. So I think it was a disgrace, but that’s the way the press is. Very unfortunate.
I am very proud now that we have a museum on the National Mall where people can learn about Reverend King, so many other things. Frederick Douglass is an example of somebody who’s done an amazing job and is being recognized more and more, I noticed. Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks, and millions more black Americans who made America what it is today. Big impact.
I’m proud to honor this heritage and will be honoring it more and more. The folks at the table in almost all cases have been great friends and supporters. Darrell—I met Darrell when he was defending me on television. And the people that were on the other side of the argument didn’t have a chance, right? And Paris has done an amazing job in a very hostile CNN community. He’s all by himself. You’ll have seven people, and Paris. And I’ll take Paris over the seven. But I don’t watch CNN, so I don’t get to see you as much as I used to. I don’t like watching fake news. But Fox has treated me very nice. Wherever Fox is, thank you.
We’re gonna need better schools and we need them soon. We need more jobs, we need better wages, a lot better wages. We’re gonna work very hard on the inner city. Ben is gonna be doing that, big league. That’s one of the big things that you’re gonna be looking at. We need safer communities and we’re going to do that with law enforcement. We’re gonna make it safe. We’re gonna make it much better than it is right now. Right now it’s terrible, and I saw you talking about it the other night, Paris, on something else that was really—you did a fantastic job the other night on a very unrelated show.
I’m ready to do my part, and I will say this: We’re gonna work together. This is a great group, this is a group that’s been so special to me. You really helped me a lot. If you remember I wasn’t going to do well with the African-American community, and after they heard me speaking and talking about the inner city and lots of other things, we ended up getting—and I won’t go into details—but we ended up getting substantially more than other candidates who had run in the past years. And now we’re gonna take that to new levels. I want to thank my television star over here—Omarosa’s actually a very nice person, nobody knows that. I don’t want to destroy her reputation but she’s a very good person, and she’s been helpful right from the beginning of the campaign, and I appreciate it. I really do. Very special.
So I want to thank everybody for being here.
— President Donald Trump, celebrating Black History Month 02-01-2017.
Does this kind of thing matter? Does the ability to speak in sentences make a difference? Is it a concern when he keeps reminding folks that he won the election and that the press is his enemy? Yes, it does when he is the President of the United States. Taken together it is a sign that he is a man ripe for being controlled and misled by those around him if they seem to agree with his unformed and uninformed thoughts.
And then there's that phone conversation with Australia's Prime Minister.
Me, proud? Sorry, can't say that I am.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)