Regrets

When I was young, I came to the conclusion that America was not a perfect country. While it held a great future for me, that future wasn't available to others that I knew who worked and strived as much as anyone. Sometimes I felt that we operated on shifting sands.

As I grew older and more aware, that thought grew. It peaked when I was sent to an immoral war, from which service I received no thanks but some benefits. Even those benefits eluded a large segment of the brothers and sisters with whom I served. Through it all, though, I strongly believed that, though not perfect, the country I served had the potential to be a good and righteous place. It was showing a movement thereto,  a movement led by its better angels. Then one day, selfish and greedy people, seemingly from out of nowhere, began taking over.

Now they, and their counterparts on the opposite end of the political spectrum, seem hell-bent on combining forces to destroy this needy country that I love so much. I weep not for myself. I’ve had a good run and have learned to survive. I weep for the young, and for friends who cherish their young. We are faced with such a waste of unwanted promise.

I only wish I'd had more courage.

Friday Musings

I find myself unable to respond to Senator Elizabeth Warren’s decision to withdraw from the presidential race. As I face half the people I will see today, I am speechless. I haven’t suffered disquietude of this degree since I had to face my African-American shipmates on the day we heard that about the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.

There are some things that white American males can feel. There are some things white American males can’t feel. We can feel strongly about the ability of the current football coach. We can feel strongly about the men who repair our automobiles. We can feel strongly about the men who conduct our orchestras. We can even feel strongly about men of other races as long as we confine those feelings to their ability to do such things as dunk basketballs.

Hell, we can even feel strongly about women in the fields of cooking and dressmaking.

I guess we could, maybe, suppose things about our wives and sisters.

For example, I don’t suppose that Elizabeth Warren would collude with the president of South Vietnam to delay peace talks until after the next election, in order to boost her chances.

I don’t suppose Elizabeth Warren would countenance a band of thugs burglarizing the headquarters an opposing political party.

I don’t suppose Elizabeth Warren would announce her candidacy, as a sop to southern bigots, in the city where four civil rights workers were murdered in the 1960s

I don’t suppose Elizabeth Warren would countenance a maneuver to sell weapons to one of America’s most virulent enemies in order to finance, illegally, a foreign war.

I don’t suppose Elizabeth Warren would bomb the innocent citizens, and invade the land, of a sovereign country for political purposes.

I don’t suppose Elizabeth Warren would knowingly dishonor the disabled, veterans, veterans’ families, or the dead for the pure delight of her base supporters. I do suppose that as a former teacher she has read of the Roman gladiatorial contests and might eschew the spectacle of pain for enjoyment.

I don’t suppose that Elizabeth Warren would countenance a national effort to deny the vote to honest, hard working Americans who might not be her supporters.

Those are not “feminine things.” I could name dozens of our sisters that would apparently countenance such dishonorable things in a heartbeat.

I do suppose that where you sit says loudly, and with clear conciseness, who you are. I do suppose that Elizabeth Warren sits on the right side of history. I do hope that may turn out to be more important than one political race. I do think that, as a white male, is all I can say.

I do suppose Elizabeth Warren, as president,
would care for the least of those among us.