My thoughts on the Presidential Election of 2016

Often I have more questions than opinions, or so I like to think, but having a load of issues jump at me doesn’t bode well at 2:30 AM. In the early hours of November 9th, Donald Trump was on his way to becoming president-elect Trump. Like many, I had stayed up late watching election returns, and when I got to bed, I tossed and turned with pundit commentary drifting in my head. I didn't vote for Donald Trump, and I knew in myself that I had created a harrowing vision of a Trump presidency over the course of the gruesome campaign, but now what?

During my sleepless time on the post-election night, I wondered what rhetoric would soon become action. Could a Trump administration round up and deport millions of immigrants, would Muslim Americans will be put under severe scrutiny for their faith, and would millions lose healthcare insurance at the stroke of a pen? Perhaps a caustic tweet by a sitting president later explained away as a joke would start a war. My questions kept me awake, but this was just the small accumulation of my uneasy questions.

To some Trump’s election was a joyous occasion, and that’s the spell elections perform. With all political outcomes, some folks are euphoric, and others are not. Wherever you fit emotionally right now, one must be aware that the election of Donald Trump holds many people in a whirlpool of uncertainty, anger, and fear; from my point, this is different from any other collective national mood that I have witnessed in my lifetime.

Head scratching by those dismayed by this election outcome developed new narratives not at the forefront before, mostly about the divide between urban and rural. Much of the nation’s concerns seem to be economic; where I might see recovery from the Great Recession in my ten-mile radius and selective eyes, others experience stagnant wages, families with drug issues, vacant landscapes where industries have moved on, and perhaps a feeling of no security. Many had felt ignored while seeing incredulous political tribes zooming on ahead; hence many took the risk and elected Donald Trump.

During 2016 there were a few scholars and authors were speaking about the nation's political disconnects and pointing to segments of American society that are seemingly invisible to many including the political parties.  In the New York Times' list of “6 Books to help understand Trump's win", I was familiar with two books in particular. In J.D. Vance's book "Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis" he writes about his Eastern Kentucky family long in a history of being impoverished and having low-paying jobs, jobs that are fast disappearing.  In Thomas Frank's, "Listen, Liberal: Or, What Ever Happened to the Party of the People?" he finds a Democratic Party that has aligned itself with a form of corporate and cultural elitism, one that has largely abandoned the party's working-class commitment of the past.

Where there is not just division itself, but suffering, there is an imperative need to listen to people with an empathetic mindset, no matter who they support, and ask questions, mainly what's wrong in your corner of America? Both major political parties should take note; heck ordinary citizens need to look and listen further than their usual news feeds of "resistance" to understand the thoughts and concerns of the "the other side.” The secret to a win may be about bridging division. There should be town hall meetings held across the country listening and problem-solving. Would we find racism and selfishness along the way? Possibly, but we need dialog.

Unfortunately, I am afraid some hoping for economic revival and voted solely on that hope, their message is going to be lost in the fog of the president's authoritative strokes of a pen, and then the backlash, vitriol, and chaos that follows as different sides battle it out. Insert an international crisis and domestic policy, or caring at home is scrambled, hence forgotten; note that already this is a warning to Iran – a possible coming storm.

Without me going soft, just calling for listening and unity, I can point to cause of our trouble and divided functionality: the president. From day one my issue with Donald J Trump, starting June 16, 2015, with his campaign announcement, was the toxicity that he inserts into our collective national mindset. Take Trump's New Year's Eve Tweet where he states, “Happy New Year to all, including to my many enemies and those who have fought me and lost so badly they just don’t know what to do,” he wrote. “Love!”.  The tweets such as this keep a cycle of violence with words alive, as he well knows. Tweets will trigger a response in kind by opponents. "Bad publicity is better than none" is what propels his psyche. I appreciate NY Times columnist David Brooks' commitment to comment only on what on what the President does and not what he Tweets, though Brooks admits that might be hard. Having the president Tweet unprecedented and ugly criticism of a member our independent judiciary as when had recently is uncharted territory worth comment and concern. I am referring to District Judge James Robart declaring a nationwide stay on Mr. Trump’s travel ban of seven countries and then having Trump Tweeting, "The opinion of this so-called judge...". Still, if you believe negativity is power, despite, established political decorum, Christian Gospels, and self-help books stating and supporting otherwise, then you've got your man Trump in the right seat.

There are camps of Republicans and conservative voters that see the diverseness in the delivery and actions of the president and cringe, yet welcome the rare chance of being in the majority now in the Congress, and in the Senate. I do believe there are wounds in a damn the consequences atmosphere. In whatever is going on, be it a revolution or pure reactionary politics there are matters to consider carefully. There is a chance for "the baby to be thrown out with the bathwater" so to speak, as established good ideas, decency, constitutional conventions, or relationships, are put aside under the guise of action or safety.

This particular blog post is my response to what I see going on, rather than borrowing from others voices as is frequent on social media. Of course, things are very fluid right now, and each day brings some incident more astonishing than the last.  I haven't given a laundry list here of issues and my responses to each - frankly, I can't keep up. My most sincere heartfelt reaction has been to the Executive Order on Immigration. As a Christian, I can't justify the action as implemented. I haven't often written to my senators before, but I did on this one; my Catholic Church encouraged me. On this issue, I believe we have the means to allow refugees into the United States safely as we have been doing, tweaking to programs, yes, but emphases put on helping those in need. 

 In my worst moments in this time; I want to react improperly, with a "screw you" attitude. I do worry for myself and others about waking each morning to arguments, counterarguments, and ego statements brought to us via our social media, the White House, the press, and broadcast media; all of this poison sinking deep into our conciseness -  none of this is undoubtedly healthy.

Just after I voted in 2016 election, I posted a picture of my “I Just Voted" sticker, and in my post, I noted that "We are more than our opinions." In truth, we are all participants in this life. We deeper than out politics as we live, learn, struggle, and have our being together on this one earth. Somehow as Americans, we will get through our latest writing of history.

Charles Minihan

Charles in Death Valley in 2005.

Losing someone with whom you share daily interactions can leave a profound impact, as I discovered when my co-worker Charles Minihan passed away due to complications from Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis on July 20, 2015. Over the course of twelve years working together, our relationship had grown beyond mere colleagues. Although Charles's passing did not carry the same weight as the loss of my father in 2006, who had been a constant presence in my life, the absence of a familiar face like Charles's was deeply felt. Co-workers often become like a second family, and Charles and I were no exception. Our professional connection as technology support providers for academic classrooms blossomed into something more.

 

Beyond our collaborative troubleshooting sessions, Charles and I engaged in extensive conversations that may have irked those within earshot. Like clockwork, each morning he would perch on the cadenza near my desk, curious to know what was happening. He frequently probed my thoughts, delving into our IT division's politics. Charles, perhaps influenced by past experiences, harbored a fear of being laid off, perpetually distrustful of management regardless of the actual circumstances.

 

On some mornings, our discussions took a turn towards American politics, quickly revealing Charles's disdain for the current brand of Republicans. Having grown up in a working-class Michigan family in the sixties, he embodied liberal thinking and maintained an inherent suspicion towards wealth and power. Unlike many males I knew, Charles held no interest in organized professional or collegiate sports; for him, politics was the ultimate spectator sport. I can only imagine how enthralling and terrifying an election cycle featuring the likes of Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders would have been for him. Regrettably, he missed the bizarre election spectacle of 2016 by a few short months, but I can vividly imagine his commentary.

 

Television held little appeal for Charles, despite his AV background, as he saw it as manipulative and dangerous. He believed that TV news easily manipulated emotions, either tugging at heartstrings or inciting false anger. Additionally, he found the act of passively observing others' suffering on a television screen while comfortably seated at home to be complacent. His primary sources of news and opinion were the New York Times and the Economist. His political beliefs, while sometimes complex and thought-out, could also veer into knee-jerk cynicism. That was simply who he was.

Beyond office and world politics, we shared many common interests. We often discussed which walking shoes to buy and delighted in comparing observations of the natural world. Whether it was the birds we had seen, the appearance of clouds on a particular day, or conversations about the ancient glacial markings etched into rocks, we found joy in exchanging our observations. We both had the habit of walking to and from work, allowing us to share notes on the changing seasons, the chill or heat in the air, and any peculiarities we encountered along our respective routes.

 

Naturally, we also joked about child-rearing, and Charles imparted valuable wisdom based on his experiences. With his kids now grown, and mine still young, he shared an insightful observation that young children are generally "Little Conservatives." According to him, they assert their desires with precision and seldom deviate from their chosen path without a resounding "NO! I don't want to do that!" I have found this tidbit to hold true.

Charles was thirteen years older than me, he had seen and learned a lot over his life, and he had settled into many personalized  “truths,” but go deeper, and he could bend from his settled notions. My zig-zag evolution of thought and principles, with few certainties to vocalize, often left me vulnerable. He was an Atheist and fallen away Catholic, while I am Catholic with growing explorations in my faith. I found it hard to bring up topics related to religion with him so bathed in cynicism. People’s religious faith was in his view often ego based, too dogmatic, and to his long-held conclusion, fanciful. There were times when his views were such a changeling aspect in my head that I would have been happy not to hear from him again, period; I wanted him gone!

With Charles, I often felt I was defending an evenhanded view of the status quo and allowing it some wiggle room, and he took me down. Now, I have grown to at the very least “get” his view. Oddly, I have noted that his views were not far from activist roles that religious individuals bring to justice, working for those who are on the margins of society, the poor and downtrodden. I never got the chance in conversation to fully tie my defense of Christianity, with its many public dogmas and complexities perhaps getting in the way, to his sense of justice where we had much agreement. 

 

Charles had an insatiable passion for traveling. In June 2005, we had the opportunity to co-present at the Infocomm audiovisual convention in Las Vegas, focusing on Adaptive Technologies for Persons with Disabilities—an issue close to Charles' heart as he himself was hearing-impaired. Following the convention, we embarked on a road trip together through the untamed landscapes of rural Nevada. It was a journey that mirrored one I had taken alone in 2003. Charles readily embraced my travel plans, eagerly exploring lesser-known communities that rarely made it onto the average tourist's itinerary: Rhyolite, Beatty, Goldfield, Tonopah, Belmont, and Manhattan, NV. We even ventured into Death Valley National Park, just inside California, braving the sweltering heat of 100+ degrees Fahrenheit as we marveled at the barren terrain. Our shared experiences brought us joy, and we found amusement in our misadventures along the way. Unbeknownst to us, we accidentally ran over a Jack Rabbit one late night and encountered an unexpectedly endearing Kangaroo Rat—a creature that, sadly, ended up stuck to the front of our rental car, I found the poor creature as I pumped gas one morning in Beatty, NV. On a particular afternoon, we stood in awe-struck silence as we witnessed a dust devil gracefully meandering up a dirt road, reminiscent of a ghost on an otherworldly excursion. In 2007, after another Infocomm event, we explored Los Angeles together, with Charles finding fascination in the La Brea Tar Pits, especially the life-sized model of a panicking mother elephant watching her young sink into the tar.

During Charles' battle with illness, he spent January to April 2015 in hospitals and rehabilitation facilities, desperately striving to regain his respiratory capacity. It was during this period that his second grandchild was born. Visiting Charles during his illness was a challenging experience as I struggled to provide him with meaningful encouragement. He possessed unwavering determination to reclaim his health, yet uncertainty clouded his mind. I am still unsure about the events that transpired in the final stages of his life. Perhaps, overwhelmed by the strain of his recovery efforts, he reached a point of surrender. To my surprise, as he faced the infinity of death, he came to accept the possibility of a higher power. Although he is no longer with us, his memory remains vivid, and at times, I half expect him to appear before me with remarkable tales of the afterlife or his unique perspective on the journey towards it. In an unusual way, I feel that my conversations with Charles are far from over.