Life in the Trump era has resulted in my getting blogger’s block. You would think just the opposite, but no. Each hour—sometimes by-the-minute—there is an assault on my sense of decency, security, patriotism, and general well-being. My rheumatoid arthritis has flared up from stress, and the ten impossible things I thought I could do for others in need on any given day are now impossible to tackle. My European, Canadian, and Asian friends don’t know whether to laugh at me or send their condolences.
One of my favorite nieces, seven months pregnant and the mother of a toddler, found her husband a job in Denmark and moved her family there. She couldn’t bear to live in Trump’s America. I don’t blame her, although I miss her. Why would anyone want to subject her children to his outrageous taunts, schoolyard bullying, denigration of persons and institutions, garish self-aggrandizing, and mischaracterization of complex political realities? His approach to governing this country is as if it is a board game for preschoolers.
So I am over-stimulated and brain-whipped from one travesty or conflict to the next, with no time to concentrate on a well-written blog. Not to mention: who has time to read all the blogs that are generated from the malaise spawned by this mad king?
I plan to write a list—although I’m sure I will have to add to it daily—and work my way through it, item by item. Perhaps it will give me some structure so that I can resume writing real blogs about the real issues that confront us—problems that we want to understand, communicate about, and resolve.
Can all this turmoil be Trump’s strategy for shutting down free democratic discourse? If it is, it might be working.