Charles M. Blow wrote the following in the New York Times after the 50-day mark of the Trump presidency: “There is no new Trump.
There is only the same old Trump: Dangerous and unpredictable, gauche and greedy, temperamentally unsuited and emotionally unsound.” Enough said. It is time to change the subject. I am making myself crazy, and that can be a contagious condition.
A funny thing happened last weekend. I had talked to Meredith and our kids (Kids? Ages 28 to 24) about putting together a family meeting to talk about my anger excesses during and after my two bouts of cancer. I had written about that in the Times in 2002.
“My head was down, and I was not seeing the people around me. I had assumed that the children would rejoice in my presence. They shrank in horror. My fangs were bared, and they were sharp.
Do your homework, turn off the music! I snarled. ‘Clean up that mess! Don’t leave it for your mother and me.
The kids had unloaded on me in that Cases column in the Science Times. On Sunday, Meredith and I sat with Ben and Lily, who were in town for a short visit. We got Gabe on a speakerphone, calling in from Seattle. Our conversation was friendly, frank and forgiving. This was fifteen years later, and perspective took over. The conversation was for my new book. It brought back old memories, and our talk stayed with me.
Today, we are trapped in the moment in our national conversation about our lives. We are getting knocked around by high emotion. Those of us living with serious sickness must process our own frustrations. We operate on overload. That is not as healthy way to live. I am trying to disengage from politics. Trump is not going to change and I assume, neither are we. I cannot stop caring, but I do not have to bathe in my contempt. Now I am content with the newspaper in the morning. The television is off. Soon my sanity may return.