Thursday night, President Donald Trump retaliated against Syrian atrocities with an airstrike aimed at their bases.
Hours earlier, it's what Hillary Clinton said she would do, had she won the election. Years ago, it's what then Secretary of State John Kerry wanted to do, and he has always tried to avert conflict. So I'm left to believe it was the correct decision.
My news feed is filled with opinions otherwise, most of them feverish with conspiracy and dark motives. Normally I find such rantings rather easy to dismiss, and I dismiss them this time, too. But here's the thing ...
This time, I get it.
No, I never believed Hillary Clinton had Parkinson's. Yes, I believe Sandy Hook happened. Sorry, but Elvis really is dead. I believe almost all popular conspiracy theories are crap.
But I wish I could reject this one on faith, rather than commonsense and life experience.
I wish I could say I believe my President.
But he's the Birther in Chief who promised to produce "the truth" about Barack Obama's birth certificate. He's the inaugurated paranoid who insists Obama had him wiretapped. He's the Islamophobe who swears he saw tape of thousands of Muslims cheering when The Towers fell on 9/11. He's the cynic who knows his base is dumb enough to embrace an Enquirer story about Ted Cruz' father and Lee Harvey Oswald.
Isn't this why, when we were kids, our moms used to emphasize that they would forgive us our naughtiness as long as we didn't lie about it?
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Well said.
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