Tuesday, September 25, 2018

He doesn't want to be my President

I'm sure by now you have heard that Supreme Court nominee Judge Brett Kavanaugh has been accused of sexual misconduct by Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. The incident in question took place more than 30 years ago, when they were in high school.

It is a serious accusation. Being on the Supreme Court is, literally, the privilege of a lifetime. This needs to be handled soberly, with sensitivity and truth seeking. Of course, sobriety, sensitivity and truth are anathema to Donald J. Trump.


I was molested when I was in high school. The same age as Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. It was "bad." I have blogged about it often here, but at the time I didn't report it. I am sure that our President would take the word of my molester over mine. After all, I was fondled and harassed by a white man, a pillar of the church, a man with money. Whereas I, a frightened teenager, kept it to myself.

This is the first President of my lifetime that I felt has nothing but contempt for me.

I believe the damage Donald J. Trump is doing is more personal than putting a conservative on the court. I don't like the idea of Kavanaugh in a robe, but I accept it. After all, elections have consequences. Conservatives won. This is how it works.

But what about the adolescent girls (or boys) who are being molested and harassed and afraid to speak truth to power? How chilling will it be to hear the President of the United States dismiss Dr. Christine Blasey Ford? She is a psychologist and professor, after all. What credibility will a simple, frightened young person have?

Does Donald J. Trump get it? Does he understand that the office of the Presidency makes him our ultimate authority figure -- in essence, our dad? Does he understand the impact, the influence, he has? Does he care?

Or is he just hell bent on getting a "win" on the scoreboard for his side?

I fear it's the latter.

I know he wouldn't care what I think.

All this leaves me desolate.


So relieved! It was a good trip!


I was a little apprehensive as I rode the rails to Macomb, IL. My nephew is a freshman there, and I was worried about how eager he was for me to visit. After all, he's just been there a month, and he was already up one weekend to surprise his parents. Is he adjusting well? Is he lonely? Freshmen have trouble under the best circumstances, and frankly, his are not really the best circumstances. First of all, he battles depression. He holds himself to (impossibly) high standards and when he falls short, he is extremely hard on himself. He gets debilitating migraines. He takes medication for both the depression and the headaches, but I still worry.

And then there is his roommate. This young man is autistic. I appreciate how hard it must have been for this kid and his dad (there doesn't appear to be a mom in the picture) to get him to this point. But it's not ideal for my nephew to have a roommate who doesn't make eye contact, speaks seldom and watches wrestling videos at all hours.

I'm happy to report all is well. He loves Macomb. It feels "comfortable" and "familiar" to him. I was surprised by how empty it was -- there were very few people on the sidewalks and those we saw were wearing WIU purple. But my nephew is not the City Mouse his aunt is. He prefers the slow pace and rural feel.

He loves his classes. American history, sociology, philosophy and stress management (meditation). His professors are "cool" and "legit." His first class isn't until 11:00 and he's done before 4:00. He realizes that next semester, he won't have such an easy time (two of his classes are in the same hall, and the Student Union is right there).

I loved his fridge. When I checked out the WIU website, I found this model of the "microfridge" that would be in his room.

Here is the real thing.


That's milk, with more milk in the doors. Cool Whip and raw cookie dough (both of which will be consumed with a spoon and nothing else) box after box of pizza bites in the freezer. I was amused, but not surprised. My nephew is a young man who loves his dairy.