Tear Chasm

I saw the President cry yesterday.

One of the most powerful men in the world wept. On national TV. In front of God and everybody.

I watched him wipe away a tear of sorrow, tears of frustration and tears of anger. Tears of mourning as he, once again, remembered the little kids--kindergartners--who were massacred by a man with a gun in Sandy Hook. You can see photos of their beautiful faces, and those of their brave teachers, here.

Go ahead and look at them. I'll wait for you.

See their smiles with missing teeth, their dimples, their smirks and their headbands. See their birthday candles, itty bitty sneakers, temporary tattoos and baseball caps.  They are frozen in time as children. They won't get a chance to become the amazing young women and young men that they could have been.

That is a vast sadness. A sadness that chokes you if can bear to think about it.

I'm glad that the President cried. Everyone should be able to cry. Men, even powerful men, need to cry. And it's okay. No, it's more than okay. It's what humans do when they are feeling sad, frustrated and angry.

The President asked us to feel those feelings with him. Of course he cried. I cried, too.

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When Thinking Doesn't Count

Charles Blow writes today in the New York Times about head versus "heart."

This underscores the current fight for the soul of this country. It’s not just a tug of war between left and right. It’s a struggle between the mind and the heart, between evidence and emotions, between reason and anger, between what we know and what we believe.

This conflict was captured in a tit-for-tat between Obama and Rush Limbaugh. In an interview with CBS this week, Obama complained about the “vitriol” coming from the likes of Limbaugh: “I think the vast majority of Americans know that we’re trying hard, that I want what’s best for the country.”

Limbaugh shot back on Friday, “I and most Americans do not believe President Obama is trying to do what’s best for the country.”

And there it was. Obama’s language focused on what people “know,” or should know. He seems to find comfort in the empirical nature of knowledge. It’s logical. Limbaugh’s language focused on what he thinks people “believe.” Beliefs are a more complicated blend of facts, or lies, and faith. And, they can exist beyond the realm of the rational.

And this is the part where I get really scared.

You see, I am a thinking person. I will look at facts. I will look at data. I will follow the trail. If I am worried about the provisions in the health care bill, I will read them for myself. And, I will change my mind when I am wrong.

Here's the scary part. There are many--and truly not all--people who are strongly against health care (really insurance) reform who are just making stuff up. These people are making stuff up all the time. They are in an alternative reality. Where birth certificates from a sovereign state are suspect and there is a great and evil communist-nazi conspiracy.

And the left, we are going with logic. And facts. And thoughtful arguments. If people only understood--the President seems to be saying--they would support.

They have the boogie man. Boogie man wins over thinking man.

Keep an eye on the elections. Thinking people need a new strategy.

Trying to Get It Right

I was speeding up M-39 one year ago, at this time. I was zipping around cars to try and get to St. John Oakland Hospital.

No that's not right.

I was creeping along up the Southfield Freeway. My flight was on time to Detroit, and the Sibs knew that I was on my way. I was really wishing that I had taken the noon flight. I got the call around ten in the morning, but it would have been too close. The next flight was 2:30. Gave me a little more time to deal with the logistics of an out of town spouse and two boys home for summer vaycay.

No that's not right. My dealing with the logistics was: two frantic calls, throwing some clothes in a bag. I specifically packed a jacket. In case I was staying for a funeral.

No, that's not right. There was no "in case." At least that's what my ever-the practical brain knew. Fortunately, the brain was in charge of packing. And the brain was in charge as I was stuck in traffic on the freeway. Between exits 5 and 6, my cell phone rang. And for that split second, the brain lost control of the situation. The heart fumbled for the phone.

The brain grabbed control back and immediately was sorry that the phone was answered. It was the Sibling who had news for me.

No, that's not right. She didn't have news, because I already knew. And I asked her not to tell me. I told her I would be there in about 30 minutes. I didn't need to hear it right this second. I still had time. I wasn't ready, and it would do me no good to know right now. "It can wait," I said. I cried as I crawled up the "express"way.

No, that's not right. My volume was high when I told her I didn't want to know. She felt I had to know right then. I was so angry. I hung up before she could get it all out. I screamed. Then, I cried. I was stuck in traffic, I was all fucking alone in some strange car, in a city that I hate. I couldn't pull over. My eyes stung.

I wasn't so sure where the hospital was. I knew where the other hospital was, but not this one. I drove past it, had to turn around. I went into the lot and parked the car. (I think it was a sliver sedan. A white Charger maybe? Yeah, that was it, the white Charger that failed me.) I went to the desk and asked to see my father.

No, that's not right. I didn't know what to ask. I couldn't see my father in the way you see someone in the hospital. It was more like seeing someone in a morgue. He was dead. So I told the woman at the information desk that I wanted to see my father, and that he was dead, and that he died within the past hour. Where would he--and my family--be?

I went into the ICU and he was there. With my mother and Sib#1. Sib#2 and SpouseOf#2 were in the hall.

No, that's not right. He wasn't there. His body was. And I don't think that he had been there for a few days. So it didn't really matter that I missed seeing him. Traffic didn't matter. The noon flight wouldn't have helped. But what I wanted was that all three of us were with him so he would know that we were all there. All together. All for him. The brain knew that he wouldn't have known. Then brain went to work tending to the tasks at hand. There was alot to do, and this was all new.

No, that's not right. The heart kept trying to poke out from the heavy blanket. It did matter.

No, that's not right. It doesn't matter.

No, that's not right. It does.

No....

Three Things

First thing, I am over American Idol. It's on now. And I really don't care. Didn't vote once. Missed a bunch of shows. Don't care. Boring. [Like another "news" story on how Hillary doesn't have a shot, but that she still gets coverage like it matters. Ron Paul is still running for the Republican nomination, but he doesn't get airtime. Must be ageism.]

Second thing, I wish I could be Chef Ramsey sometimes. Number one, he is world class in his profession. Number two, he just lets it go in the kitchen. He calls people donkeys because they are acting like donkeys. He tells them--in a forceful fashion--when they are screwing up. If he is disappointed, people know. And then he recognizes excellence in the next breath. I bet he gets hoarse, sometimes. I sure would like to call the donkeys by their real names, sometimes. And yell, sometimes. [Okay, in the non-reality T.V. world, it's not always so good to speak your mind. Unless the campaign is all reality T.V. anyway?]

Third thing, [House spoiler] was too sad for me. I am struck by the calm of people who know they are dying. I used to think that it was a TV or movie drama thing--people looking serene, knowing that their time is almost over. But it really is like that. And we really have to let them go. In TV, though, we can go back to an earlier episode, and the ones we cared about are still there. So, I cried.