Wolves

I'm from Bethesda, Maryland.  All of us from there consider ourselves from there, but also we consider ourselves from DC.  Bethesda is right next to Washington, DC.  It's one big metro area.

Seeing the siege on the Capitol, the horrendous mob that violently forced their way in there, murdered a Capitol police officer, had zip ties and weapons and wanted to attack and possibly kidnap (what were the zip ties for?) and/or kill elected representatives, and stop the democratic process, the election, stop the votes from being counted, stop our constitution and our democracy itself, seeing all that, and seeing that many of them also had adorned themselves in symbols that, as Don Lemon pointed out last night very strenuously, had zero to do with their belief in the utter lie created by 45 that the election was "stolen", and everything to do with white nationalism:  confederate flags, teeshirts about Auschwitz and saying horrifying, chilling anti-semitic things that I won't even give oxygen to, really not only sickened me as a human being, and as an American who cherishes our constitution and democracy, and as a person with Jewish heritage, but also as a person from DC.

And now I'm seeing my hometown full of National Guard troops sleeping in huge piles of Guard troops on floors (WHY are they not in HOTELS, why do they have to sleep on the floor and all crowded together in a pandemic?  They don't even have cots.  All the terrorists are sleeping in beds, even the ones in jail, why are the guard troops on the cold floor?).  I'm seeing fencing all around the Capitol and a huge area of DC.  I'm seeing news reports of an intelligence community that is extremely alarmed and concerned about the level of "chatter" regarding more attacks.  I'm scared for my country and my hometown.  I'm scared for myself and for my car, with all my Bernie and Biden and ACLU and other bumper stickers.  I have to drive (with the only pet of my four pets who is not calm in the car like the other three--she gets hysterical, the entire way) one hour each way to the vet on Saturday and I'm scared, in case I get some Q Anon Trumpster behind me at a light that decides to ram my bumper.  I'm scared of all out civil war.

I think it is heartening and so vitally important to the health of our constitution and democracy, and rule of law, that 45 was impeached (again) yesterday, and I hope he will be convicted, as what we truly need to do, in order to have the "unity" that the pro-45 contingent of elected reps is insisting we can only have by letting 45 off the hook with no consequences for his lawlessness and treason, is to unify around the constitution and rule of law.  The only way we do that is for all these seditious traitors, including the head one, 45, to face constitutional consequences.  So the impeachment yesterday was heartening.  The 10 Republicans who voted yes are heartening.  The big businesses yanking their business from 45 is heartening.  NYC ending all contracts with 45 is heartening.

But the Auschwitz shirts, the confederate flags, the chatter alarming the experts on line, all that is still going strong, too.  When I was 18, I perceived something ugly starting, taking root, and I thought Reaganism started it.  I thought that for decades.  But now I'm older and wiser, with a sense of history that extends back before I came of age.  And I see that the people with the Auschwitz shirts and confederate flags and chatter about more terrorist attacks have always been here (even before Auschwitz happened).  It didn't start with the rise of ugly nationalism during the Reagan years.  Or, I should say, ugly nationalism didn't start during the Reagan years.  It just came out to play after a brief respite.  But it was there when I was a tiny child and MLK was assassinated, and JFK.  It was there when young black and Jewish civil rights activists were murdered in the south.  It was there when crosses were burned.  It was there in the Civil War.  It was there, all the way back, all the way back, back, back, where it started:  in slavery.  Our country is still reeling and reacting to slavery.  And, as Don Lemon pointed out last night:  what the storming of the Capitol was about last week was not "politics", as he put it (not the election or 45 himself), and what many 45 supporters love about 45 is not Republican policy such as tax cuts (which is basically their entire policy, other than investing all our remaining money that's left over, after obscene tax cuts for the rich, into the war machine), it's white nationalism.

That's what I noticed, rising around me, in 1980, but I didn't name it.  July 4, 1980.  I was 18.  I was on the National Mall.  The Beach Boys were playing.  It was supposed to be a beautiful 4th of July celebration.  But there was this ugly atmosphere.  People smashing bottles of alcohol and screaming, and a young person, my age, wearing a "F*ck Iran" teeshirt.  That is burned into my brain.  Because, before that, when I was a child and tween, I naively thought that, when my generation grew up and took over the reigns, we would end war.  We would end the nuclear arms race.  We would end fossil fuel and go to solar energy.  We would all be wearing tie-dyed teeshirts and Birkenstocks and holding hands, all races, all colors, all creeds, all ages, all sexual orientations, everyone:  we'd just all be singing kumbaya and living in solar A-frames in Vermont.  That's what I thought.  Before Reagan.  Before the smashing glass on the National Mall on that 4th of July, when I was 18 years old.  Before I saw a kid, my age, smashing glass, yelling "Wuuuuuuuuuuuu!  USA!", with his "F*ck Iran" teeshirt on.

What is this, I thought.  What is this.  This is not peace, love and kumbaya.  This is ugly.  That kid is not a hippie.  What is he?  Who are these people?  I told my boyfriend, let's get out of here.  After that, they canceled the Beach Boys for future years.  No more rock and roll.  Because rock and roll, they surmised, was the problem.  Ever since then, it's been classical music on the mall on the 4th of July.  They even call it "A Classical 4th", I think, since then.  If only not having the Beach Boys play music could fix this.  But this goes back, back, back.  Probably even before slavery.  Before the United States.  Folks:  the terrifying thing is, this is part of the human potential.  It's always been there.  It's always been here.  In all of us.  Just like the good potential.  The potential to love, the potential for tolerance, respect, understanding and peace.  And, as the native American parable goes, regarding which wolf will win, the good wolf or the bad wolf:  it depends which one you feed.