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Virgin Sacrifices:  The Texas Flash Floods and Epstein

Two current news threads highlight the perils of growing up female in this country.  The first weaves around the nearly 30 young girls, most only 8 or 9, who died when catastrophic flash flooding overtook their beloved Texas summer camp. We’ve viewed images of their smiling faces, winced and can’t bear to think of the horrific existential terror they must have suffered in their final moments.  Knowing they won’t have the chance to grow up, we can only hope the rising waters took them quickly. The second thread twists around the vicious, manmade (literally) disaster perpetrated by the Epstein-Maxwell pedophile sex trafficking ring on the lives of as many as 1,000 (!) young girls only a few years older (some as young as 14). They survived physically, but were traumatized, their passage from girl to woman blighted, thrown off track, by “too much too soon” entry into a depraved “adult” world they were too young to handle. And now, adding insult to injury, their lived experiences are being largely “erased” in the rush to fend off/minimize political fallout. Later in life, some of them died too—suicide, drug overdose—after struggling to integrate what had been done to them. “You never really heal,” said one victim, two decades after.

Who Pays the Price?

Not surprising that both these narratives have generated efforts to reframe/manage/manipulate surrounding public conversation. Hard to admit to and confront our failings. The “Virgin Sacrifices” title references the trope/archetype of young girls offered up as martyrs, in ancient myths and modern fantasy tales, to placate dragons, angry gods, dark forces in some human psyches, so communities could live. This raises questions: Why are young girls with absolutely no power expected to shoulder such heavy burdens? Do they have a choice, the option to refuse? Related assumptions persist in cultural frames around gender roles. In both cases, view the girls as innocent, naïve, unworldly, impressionable. They were also entirely dependent on adults in their lives to interpret the world, care for, guide them, make decisions, keep them safe. The sheltered Camp Mystic girls trusted their mothers and the folks who ran the camp. And well-meaning mothers trusted camp operators, based on their own fond memories and legacy histories that for many go back generations. The place has been described by former campers as a magical “little slice of heaven,” a space out of regular time. How could anything bad happen there? That apparently extended to the belief nothing in the magical place would ever change. But this contradicted a backstory of flooding in a similar storm system, with 10 campers drowned, in 1987. And almost 40 years later, while Texas “culture” has continued to ramp up denial, the risks have soared with growing effects of climate change. Camp owners and operators were not forthcoming regarding dangers of location in the river floodway. They made short-term choices, cutting corners, to persuade FEMA to allow expansion in and not show existing structures on flood maps to avoid the expense of carrying flood insurance. (NPR, WSJ).

Evil Intentions

The Epstein gang were, of course, neither well-meaning nor trustworthy. Their playbook seems a mirror image of rampant Catholic priest sex abuse scandals and coverups or the notorious elite Hellfire Club of 18^th century London, with vulnerable girls groomed, taken in by and trusting Maxwell’s “big sister” persona. Assume there was an underlying “deflowering virgins” element. I reflect on girls I met in a storytelling project I conducted a few years back at a Catholic girls’ school. In 6^th grade, just 12 or 13 and beginning to think about dating, yet boys they flirted with online were already pressing them to send nude photos. And one had had to change schools when her face was superimposed on another girl’s naked body. I shudder to imagine how easily they might have been lured in, dazzled by shiny glitz, fake glamor, gifts. Rebecca Solnit has recognized another, deeper, underlying story (The problem is far bigger than Jeffrey Epstein. The Guardian. August 3, 2025.) “Treating the scandal as an aberration misunderstands the global epidemic of violence again women.” The common theme with Epstein, Sean “Diddy” Combs, Harvey Weinstein, R. Kelly, is “patterns of extensive staff (co-conspirators), deep pockets, banks, and elite connections.” And because “cases are talked about individually, [they are] often treated as shocking aberrations rather than part of a pervasive pattern that operates at all levels of society….” And “Law enforcement and the legal system have often been more interested in protecting perpetrators and society has often normalized and even celebrated violence against women.” And that seems to explain how they were able to “get away with it” for so long, until a few victims found their voices because no one else would speak up for them.

Losing Power

We have seen women steadily lose political and cultural power since the brief surge of Second-Wave feminism in the 1970s. “The kind of power [now] being fetishized in popular culture…wasn’t the sort you accrue over a lifetime, in the manner of education or money or professional experience. It was all about youth, attention, and a willingness to be in on the joke, even if we were ultimately the punch line.” (Sophie Gilbert. Girl on Girl: How Pop Culture Turned a Generation on Women Against Themselves. Penguin. 2025). So, the Epstein model was perfect, cycling through a set of interchangeable young bodies and then moving on to the next.  And we see a variation manifest in the current administration. Michael Wolff, who has made a career of profiling the president, has noted that all the women look like Melania, who mostly absents herself. The model: “long hair worn down, skirts above the knee, high boots, and, in his [Wolff’s] opinion, not always qualified.” (Daily Beast).  And then there’s Mar-a-Lago face, due to extensive application of Botox and plastic surgery. And there’s a limited “shelf-life,” after which women who do manage to grow up are expected to step into the roles of wives, mothers, “helpmates.” And national policy choices will continue to “rely on [them] to hold it together for their families, their communities, the whole economy, [while] denying them the support they deserve.” (Jessica Calarco. Holding It Together: How Women Became America’s Safety Net. Portfolio/Penguin. 2024). This while as, in this country and around the world, “women [continue to] carry a disproportionate share of unpaid caregiving” and do much of the emotional heavy lifting. I think of the suffering of Texas mothers grieving and perhaps second guessing the loss of the daughters they sent to Camp Mystic with confidence they would return happy, healthy, alive.

Different in Texas?

We can see events at Camp Mystic as representative of a softer feminine, denial, side/counterpart that dovetails with the Lone Star State’s fiercely masculine culture of cowboy “rugged individualism” that strives to deny and overcome and conquer physical, geographic, climate realities. The big, strong, men will take care of the girls. But in this case, they did not and the most vulnerable became casualties of the cultural and ideological wars. The state “faces hurricanes, heat, drought, rising seas and [of course] deadly floods. But despite the clear need for preventive action, that is not the political mood.” (Ed Pilkington. The Texas way: why the most disaster-prone US state is so allergic to preparing for disasters. Guardian. July 13, 2025.) When questions were raised, Gov. Greg Abbot pushed back and used sports metaphors (Derek J. Collins. Guest Columnist. Texans deserved empathy, not Abbott’s “Winner vs. Losers” Talk. Austin American-Statesman. July 10, 2025.). The tragedy has been described as an act of God, too fast-moving to be predicted, and warning systems proved woefully inadequate. Did DOGE cuts reduce National Weather Service prediction and warning capacity? (Aamna Mohdin. Monday briefing: The ‘toxic cocktail’ of climate denial, federal cuts and the Texas floods. The Guardian. July 14, 2025.). But, as noted above, it had happened before in a similar storm system. “Abbott’s response so far has been notably lacking in one regard: any assurance that Texas will tackle the problems that contributed to the calamity in Kerr County over the Fourth of July weekend, when the Guadalupe River rose like a torrent 26ft in 45 minutes. Accosted by reporters, the governor has indicated he will allow debate in the Texas legislature on the state’s flood warning systems but has given no guarantees on the outcome.”

Through the Looking Glass?

Epstein’s is a tangled tale. Though never graduating from college, he taught, age 21, at an elite private school in Manhattan, where he already showed an interest in young female students and a gift for making contacts. He used those to move into the investment industry.  From the inside, he embarked on both elements of his career path. Along the way, he claimed to be an undercover, “intelligence agent” and thus untouchable and photographed and videotaped interactions, perhaps with a view to blackmail, in conjunction with investment activities (Wikipedia). And now, he too is dead. By suicide, we’re told, but questions won’t go away. Though he was on suicide watch, guards did not regularly check on him as required, and there’s a gap in surveillance footage from the night he died in his cell. And on what can be seen, a shadowy orange figure moves down the stairs toward his cell. And now, his handmaid/accomplice Maxwell has been moved to a minimum-security, “country club,” prison in Texas, and a pardon may be in the works. Meanwhile, “Even as the case now dominates political discourse, the focus has been not on the crimes committed but the much more trivial matter of the partisan political fallout and the various strategies politicians are adopting to exploit the controversy.” (Adam Reiss and Corky Semanski. Epstein victims say the Trump administration’s handling of the case adds to their anguish. NBC News. July 18, 2025; Jeff Heer. Jeffrey Epstein’s Victims Are Again Being Wronged by Donald Trump’s Circus. The Nation. July 18, 2025).

Resolution or Not

All coverage of the Epstein crisis I’ve read includes the disclaimer that there is no evidence the president took part. And as usual with rape, there are denials. Maxwell’s brother claims she’s the true victim, that the young women who accused her are liars. There are also questions around “protecting” those same victims. (Tanner Stening. Transparency vs. victim safety? Experts say it isn’t a case of either/or in the Jeffrey Epstein files. Northeastern Global News. July 31, 2025).  The Attorney General has stated the Department of Justice has in its possession “tens of thousands of videos of Epstein with children or child porn.”  But a July memo stated there is “no evidence to pursue uncharged third parties and that no ‘incriminating client list’ exists.” Really?! “The Trump administration’s mixed signals on the case have drawn widespread criticism — even from within the MAGA base.” Apparently they expected all the slime would splash on “radical left Democrats,” along with a plot to cover treasonous acts by Obama. Think Pizza gate. The optics remain highly problematic. “In any sexual assault prosecutions involving children or underage victims, you are always conscious of the victim…yet concerned about holding the perpetrator accountable once you have proved your case beyond a reasonable doubt.”  In this context, “Pardoning or providing clemency to Maxwell, who acted as [Epstein’s] fixer, who acted in such a way as to seduce the girls so that he could then rape them, any way in which she as an accomplice doesn’t serve the sentence that she got, it is a betrayal of the victims.”

 Seeking Answers in Texas?

Optics, outrage, and unanswered questions can sometimes shift political moods and discourse, at least for a while. Families of the Texas victims, in classic search for meaning after tragedy (think of grieving mothers who started MADD), have announced funding of memorials and foundations to support favorite causes. Will they move on to lawsuits, raise issues that left Camp Mystic so vulnerable in an area known as “Flash Flood Alley?”  Probably not, given the camp’s utopian history so central to the state’s narrative. But folks do need someone to blame. And there’s plenty to go around. An after-action hearing conducted by the “Texas Senate and House’s Select Committees on disaster preparedness and flooding [came] after weeks of mounting frustration from members of the community and other leaders over a lack of answers from the emergency management coordinator.” (Melissa Chan. Kerr County emergency coordinator says he was sick and asleep when floods hit Texas. NBC News. July 31, 2025).  Big strong men supposed to be in charge were MIA, on vacation, sick in bed, asleep. The warning only reached the Sheriff around 4:20 am, when the waters had already risen. Questions were raised regarding the “protocol…when all three leaders are unreachable as a disaster unfolds… was [there] a way for Camp Mystic to alert officials or for officials to have warned the camp?” Answer: emergency office was not notified that Camp Mystic had flooded, adding that the camp’s protocol is to alert the sheriff’s office. The sheriff said he had no notifications from the camp.”  But the camp had lost power.  So, how was that supposed to happen?

Disaster Management and Rebuilding?

When it comes to disasters, I also have personal experience, living and working in a high-risk state, not always well prepared. My bookcase holds a book titled There Is No Such Thing as a Natural Disaster. (Chester Hartman and Gregory D. Squires, editors. Routledge. 2006).  Risk all comes down to where and how we build. And that encapsulates the story of Camp Mystic. Pre-Katrina, I also worked on a disaster preparedness plan for my then home parish “at the bottom of the [Louisiana] Boot.”  Folks whose homes had flooded would say it never had before.  But every storm is different, and once it happens, it’s always a possibility in the future.  A key lesson: if you issue a warning and nothing much happens, folks will be much less likely to heed future warnings. And if nothing extreme happens for a long time, folks tend to assume nothing ever will. Call that disaster amnesia, and again it’s another key piece of the Camp Mystic tragedy. And the idea of 100-year floods the president seized on when he visited Texas leans on the comforting assumption it won’t happen again for another century.  But that’s not the way these things work. In fact, a severe weather event could hit the next year or the year after. So, will Camp Mystic rebuild in the same place?  Unknown, but given reverence for the history, it’s not unlikely. Rebuilding might even be couched as a “living memorial.”  But if sentiment does draw folks back, will camp operators learn the lesson and take the opportunity to build better, higher, and take more account of the topography, the river, the risks?  That too remains unknown.

Hoist on Their Own Conspiracy?

Meanwhile, the Epstein controversy grinds on and seems to have “legs.” This though the president “…has long been able to deny and push away issues that might have sunk any other politician.”  But now, he “is facing a crisis with his online influencer supporters over the so-called ‘Epstein files.’ [And] there appear to be limits, even for him. An explosive Wall Street Journal article “…revealing a ‘bawdy’ birthday letter purportedly from Trump to Jeffrey Epstein (the president denies the letter in question is from him), has sent shock waves through Maga-world.” (Poppy Coburn. Suddenly, Donald Trump is in trouble. The Telegraph. July 18, 2025.) The president is now suing the WSJ and Rupert Murdoch individually.  But it seems he may have lost control of this narrative. And this is the result of his and “his allies play[ing] with fire in letting the conspiracy-obsessives grow their power for so long.” And so, the saga continues for now.

Duty of Care

View both these narrative threads as demonstrating top-to-bottom failure and breach of Duty of Care obligations to vulnerable young girls. Google AI definition: “This is a legal and ethical obligation to avoid acts or omissions that could reasonably be foreseen to cause harm to others. It essentially means taking reasonable steps to protect others from injury or damage. In legal contexts, a breach of this duty, combined with other factors, can lead to negligence claims and liability for damages.” Key factors: “Foreseeability: Harm must be reasonably foreseeable as a result of the action or inaction; Breach of Duty: If the standard of care is not met, it is considered a breach; Causation: The breach of duty must be the direct cause of the harm suffered. A breach of duty can lead to lawsuits and financial penalties. Understanding and fulfilling [this] duty of care is crucial for risk management in any organization.”  What we might call the Texas effect seems to combine denial, inadequate performance, and unintended neglect that led to foreseeable consequences. Camp Mystic’s beloved leader died while heroically trying to save young campers. But presume he was also involved in negotiations with FEMA over the flood maps.  No insult to balance the two and acknowledge that he made some poor, short-term, choices before.  And if such questions cannot be raised and asked, how can better decisions be made?  The Epstein effect is, of course, a whole other matter, representing a combination of malice, and covert, but “hiding in plain sight,” in-crowd, secret keeping.  And in both cases, young victims unable to protect themselves were essentially abandoned and left on their own. And now, they may continue to be shoved aside in adults’ scramble for political cover. A good first step in doing better and allowing for future improvement, would be admitting to these failures. Will that happen? It remains to be seen.

Wherever I Go, There I Am: Challenges of Solo Travel

A couple weeks back, I took a solo trip to New Hampshire to attend an adult summer Circle Dance camp. Unfamiliar geography: my first time in the state, never had a reason to visit before. Limited experience of Circle Dance too, but enough to know I wanted more. From the first time I read about it, I sensed I had stumbled onto something special. That was confirmed when I saw it done and performed and had the chance to I join in, to feel it in my own body. What was it that touched and spoke to me? The inclusiveness:  motto—”If you can walk, you can dance.” Always a bit clumsy, but if they say I can. And I love the way these dances form community, holding hands, circling, supporting each other, nobody superior. And that the dances, original and choreographed, have grown/sprouted from shared ancient folk-dance roots still lodged deep in our communal soul. Plus, they seem to conjure a shared world and way of life. I’ve met people who’ve danced together and taught others to dance much of their lives. I wanted some of that for myself and to bring it to my community, but I couldn’t seem to find a closer venue.  And so, I was willing to travel.

Travel History

Well, consider willing an overstatement. Though I’ve traveled all my life, I’m seldom all that happy about it. I’m not a detail person and the logistics often turn me anxious, confused, feeling scattered. So, getting there is seldom, if ever, half the fun. The journey part is more something to endure, while understanding that “Wherever I go, there I am.” Travel is expanding and, one way or another, I will come up against myself. Be forced to confront parts of me I’d rather not. I’m sure that goes back to early disorganized road trips with my family. Like it or not, we are formed by our early experiences. And we traveled “hard,” without a net, in an increasingly decrepit car, and with little padding/buffering between us and the ups and downs of the road or even the road itself. Still, once we arrived, I always appreciated dipping into new, different, previously unknown places.  Just wish I had a magic carpet to carry me to the destination and back without the wear and tear. So, this time, I weighed plusses and minuses; as my dad used to say, everything has both.  And then, I decided to go for it, believing my reasons and goals would make the trip worth what it took to get there.

Getting From Here to There

Did it turn out that way? Hmmm. Probably. Mostly. Does anything ever go as planned? There were challenges and glitches. This started with the itinerary and logistics: I needed to fly into Manchester, NH. Preparing to make reservations some weeks before, I learned this is a secondary airport, which my preferred airline had stopped servicing. Presumably because it was not profitable enough. Hmmm. Disappointing, but I found another airline, with a rental car package on Priceline. I’d assumed they’d route me through Boston, but no. In fact, the most economical option seemed to be taking a regular jet from New Orleans to Washington, DC and from there, a smaller mini jet to Manchester.

Many a Slip

On the ground in DC, I followed the crowd and boarded a lumbering “shuttle” that resembled a single subway car elevated on giant wheels. We depend on airlines to make the necessary connections. But sometimes (often?) they let us down.  So, when I found my way to the correct gate, I learned that my flight, scheduled to take off around noon, had been cancelled. Unspecified technical difficulties: they’d need to bring in another plane and takeoff was now set back to 4 pm. Giving the airline benefit of the doubt, I assumed this was a prudent decision, but it was still frustrating/irritating. A major disadvantage of traveling alone is having no one to complain to and commiserate with. And even more important, to provide physical and emotional support, someone to lean against, to have your back. The situation did not inspire confidence. Probably indicative of aging air fleets, especially on smaller routes, and carriers’ pushing to get the most out of planes while they’re still relatively functional. “Our primary concern is passenger safety.” Hmmm. The airline did apologize via phone text for the “inconvenience” and sent a $15 meal voucher.  At airport prices, that failed to cover the full cost of the meal, which I found not all that appetizing and only ate part of.

Family Patterns

Waiting, I recalled the single time, as a very young child, my family had flown together—mother and siblings, but not my dad. Assume he stayed behind to finish out the baseball season. I remember being on the plane and then standing on the tarmac afterward. My auditory memory calls up “Constellation.” Pre-jet, late prop plane, made by Lockheed, with first pressurized cabin, I read on Wikipedia. Didn’t fly that high, so I gazed out the porthole at the toy-village landscape below. Wow! Accustomed to car travel, I mashed a milk bottle top into the window/porthole, thinking it would just fall away as it did on the road. We were unconscious, mobile, litter bugs long before the term was invented.  My little sister got a Sky-Cradle certificate, as the youngest on the flight.

Claustrophobia; Tight Fit

Not so much novelty or fun this time: when we finally boarded the small plane, we went single file, not by jetway but up a ramp off the tarmac. Gritty surface underfoot presumably helped with traction. Wouldn’t want anyone falling. The plane itself had only three seats across, two one side of the aisle and just one on the other. The overhead bins were smaller too.  So, passengers were encouraged to check any bags that wouldn’t fit under the seat in front of us.  I did have a planning-ahead moment, having decided to check one small bag and carry on my backpack, which fit easily. Even on the two-seat side where I sat, the layout felt crowded and claustrophobic. And that added to my frustration with the delay that threw my schedule and plans out of whack. A single steward: was this the airline’s minor leagues? On the upside, at the small user-friendly Manchester airport, I had no problem retrieving my checked bag. Then I had to pick up the rental car for the about 2-hour drive to Franconia, NH. The hardest part of the trip and I had hoped to make it in daylight. The rental car kiosk had closed, but the neighboring Hertz kiosk handled the arrangements after another lengthy wait in line.  Limited selection of cars: I picked a silver 2025 Toyota Camry.

Drzving in the Dark

A challenge finding my way on unfamiliar roads, even in daylight. Did I mention that I have a terrible sense of direction? Couldn’t figure out GPS in the rental, but I had it on my phone, and I had made motel reservations, which my family didn’t until near the end of our travels. Looking back, I picture my mother launching herself, with children and in that car, out into the world. Our only guidance was lines drawn on a paper map. We had no idea where we’d lay our weary heads when darkness fell. What was she thinking? I recall passing neon “No Vacancy” signs that loomed like ghosts at the edges of the darkness. Eventually, desperate, we’d stop anyway, and proprietors would take mercy and call ahead trying to find us a place nearby. One time, we even took a room under renovation, the unfinished floor still gritty underfoot, so we had to keep our shoes on. My mother’s refrain still runs through my head: had we missed our turn? That surely did not inspire confidence, and we grew impatient. Enough already! If we had, we could backtrack.  And now, as night fell, I found myself driving in the dark once again.

On Repeat?

Take as given that I unconsciously fell into family patterns and assumptions and didn’t plan as well as I should have. Didn’t remember, at first, that I had my GPS set to my usual ground routes—so it sent me all over the place, till I finally realized I needed to get to the Interstate.  My dad always said, if you didn’t know the way, stop and ask. I tried multiple times, but some folks had no idea how to get to where I wanted to go. And what those who did told me didn’t make any sense when I tried to follow the directions. Finally, a very kind man outside a convenience store took the time to put the route in the notes on my phone. Why was the Interstate so hard to get to? Mountains: had to blast the route through mountains and rock, he said. OK. New Hampshire is called the Granite State for a reason.  Even with his good advice, I had doubts. Seemed to take forever. But then, at last, I spotted his second landmark and after that the Interstate sign. Partial Victory!  Still, not home free: the route was very hilly and curvy and at times scary for someone coming from and used to driving on flat lands. And it was so very dark and flanked by “forest primeval” trees. I called the man I had dealt with for my lodging, but he did not answer.  Tried to find another place for that night, but so late, that didn’t work out either.  I was on my own.

Personal Logistics; Knowing My Limits

By then, my mind had started on its own trip, as can happen when I’m over tired and up against myself. I remembered binge streaming of the Dangerous Roads series, with lesser-known comedians and performers navigating precarious, deteriorating routes that hung off the sides of mountains, crossed rivers, mired in mud past the hubcaps. Was I a glutton for punishment or trying to desensitize by confronting extreme versions of personal travel anxiety?  My situation nowhere near as dire, but then I was truly on my own, while the momentary stars had camera crews filming and other help if needed. This again highlighted the disadvantages of solo travel. And that led to musing on my clumsiness. I tend to find it embarrassing; I had to be the only one.  But no:  I thought of the holy grail motif and the hero’s journey, a la Joseph Campbell. And wasn’t the whole point to stretch and push the edges and sometimes almost go over? The winning suitor in folk and fairytales is often viewed as a fool by those who later fall by the wayside. But perhaps he really brings “beginner’s mind” to the enterprise. Extrapolate to Aesop’s Tortoise and the Hare and, for a baseball reference, to Thayer’s Casey at the Bat. “The mighty Casey had struck out.” Note that all these stories feature male heroes. Women, as usual, are invisible, only the passive targets of the courting. But I remembered how one of my books transposes that pattern (Maureen Murdock. The Heroine’s Journey: Women’s Quest for Wholeness. Shambala. 1990).  The author noted “the subtle differences between the male and female quest…”  And how the groups of women she worked with went “through all stages of the journey together, functioning as allies, ogres, co-wanderers, healers, and finally becoming a cackling council of crones.” I thought of the Circle Dance ladies I was traveling to meet and connect with.

Getting Hung Up: Literally and Figuratively

Insight did not end the physical challenges. I had somehow gotten my jacket and seatbelt tangled and hung up.  And when I stopped and exited the car to get that straight, it locked me out, apparently under the impression it was being stolen. And it emitted very a loud alarm if I touched the door. Wouldn’t have known that could happen if I hadn’t seen it on another TV show I streamed. My mind veered again. Was my adventure segueing into farce or perhaps horror territory? I was alone in the dark, with only the clothes on my back and the cell phone I clutched in my hand. And it was rapidly losing juice and the charger was locked in the car. What to do? I called the rental car company, but they couldn’t help. Wouldn’t you think, in these electronic/AI, times, there’d be a remote unlock option? But no such luck. And if they had to send someone out, I’d have to pay, since I hadn’t taken their insurance. They did suggest AAA, which I have.  My family never had that either. Talk about no safety net!

What to Do?  Problem Solving?  Or at Least Coping

Tried calling the guy at the motel where I had reservations, and this time he did answer. Fortunately, he was local, and I threw myself on his mercy.  I had picked up that lesson from my family. Would he come get me?  He would: he had a heart and felt guilty that he had not picked up my previous call. That would not have happened with a national company.  So, I got very lucky, and he was very kind and generous, which seemed to be a theme in New Hampshire.  Called AAA when I got to the room. Around 2 am by then: they could send someone to unlock around 4 am.  No thanks, I’d wait till morning. The woman liked my remote-unlock idea. We agreed somebody ought to develop and monetize that. I scheduled between 9 and 10 am.  My “landlord” took me back and waited with me till I told him he could go; I’d be ok.  The AAA person, towing another car, came soon after, unlocked my rental, no charge, and I got in and found the key.  And the alarm stopped. Whew!  Back in my room, I decided to take the day off.  Blessed rest.  Next day, I gave my benefactor a check for $20 for his time and gas.  He said I didn’t have to, but I insisted I did.  He had made my life immeasurably better and easier.  Though in a different context, Tennessee Williams was right about the kindness of strangers. And, texting with my non-stranger, support group, I started calling myself intrepid hero warrior.

All Worth It

Was the trip worth it? Yes. Dance camp was lovely.  More intimate than the larger one I’d attended in Mexico a few years back. Ladies (and one gay man I’d met before) were very kind, generous and welcoming. Forgiving and supportive of my still steep learning curve with the dance. And I learned the ladies worry, as they age, that the dance they love might fade away.  Perhaps I could open another community?  Though that might be a bit ambitious. They wished I’d come back next year.  Don’t know if I will, though I would know my way this time.  So, we’ll see.  But if I do, I might try going through Boston. I did appreciate the opportunity to experience New Hampshire, which proved to be a lovely state, with lovely people/residents, very kind and helpful.  I read it’s the best state to retire to.  I believe that, despite the winters and cold.  Not as much snow, with climate change, I’m told. So, skiing not as good. So, fewer visitors, but there are still the hikers in other seasons. Newcomers moving in are raising the cost of land housing. All things change. The AAA man said they call newcomers “Flatlanders.” Guess I’d qualify, but only for a while.

Lessons Learned

On the return trip, of course, I had to reverse the process—the drive, then the small plane, then the larger plane. One of the other dancers gave me a lovely farewell. Spotting me at the store on the way out of town, she gave me an extra hug to carry with me. Travel is all about getting out of our comfort zones. And I certainly got out of mine. And I did it on my own.  And I believe, all in all, I did all right. The mess was equal parts on me and the airline. And, though beyond exhausted, I coped and maintained/retained at least some sense of humor. And I was just smart enough to ask for help. I think of my sister, an artist, who once did a talk that touched on our early travels.  She spoke of going up hills not sure there would be anything on the other side. I didn’t share that, but had a more mundane worry, when we drove into the night, that heavy tractor trailers hightailing it down hills to make up time might plow into and drive right over us. Fortunately, though on this journey I did have a few big trucks behind me at some points, that did not happen.  And I drove without the rental car company’s insurance.  I depended on my own and my ability to work things out.  So, I must have had the confidence I would and could navigate the challenges. At home, I took at least a week to recuperate.  Will need to plan better next time. And there will be a next time.  And a time after that. There is a bigger world out there and more chances to dance.

A Tale of Two Kitties: Bloody in Tooth and Claw

A few weeks back, one of my cats bit the other. Not just a little nip, this was serious, broke the skin, needed stitches. These are the very same Rag Doll cats I’ve written about before. I had wanted a bonded pair, and they were offered free for private adoption. They needed a new home due to family allergies.  So, they came to me, as if our connection was meant to be.

But nothing’s that simple and, when it comes to pets, nothing’s ever free. This breed is known to be docile, sweet, and also beautiful, with long cream-black-russet fur and blue eyes. My two are brother and sister: she braver and more assertive; he shyer, more of a scaredy cat.  The previous owners told me she was protective of him.  And I could see that in their behavior as they settled in. He had a case of nerves, shed hair from his back legs, and took longer to warm up. But eventually came up to sleep on my bed, while she wandered the house. But in time, she too came up on my bed to sleep. Now, after the biting incident, sleeping arrangements have changed once again. Coco now takes the bed, while Café is on a couch in the den and seldom comes into the front of the house.

What Changed?

What changed? How did two members of this bred-to-be-gentle breed fall into conflict?  There’s a story and I’m here to tell it. First time I had cats with such long hair.  Took me a while to find a grooming brush that worked. Easier with the female Coco, her hair fine so it formed into small, but workable, tangles. A different story with Café, the male: his hair is coarser and formed into big mats that rose in raised channels along either side of his back.

Got away from me before I realized and by then I could not get a brush or comb through.  Feeling guilty, I searched for a cat groomer, but they’re hard to come by. I did find plenty of dog groomers. I did discover a couple who groomed cats, but both were booked months in advance. But clearly this situation couldn’t be good for his skin. I finally took him to a vet nearby.  I thought/assumed they would just take off the big mats on his back.  I should have asked more questions. But no, they shaved him.  They should have been more communicative.  Should have told me exactly what they planned to do.

Reintroducing; When Everything Changed

Things changed when I took Café home. The vet tech brought him out in his carrier, so I hadn’t seen him, hadn’t seen what they had done to him. When I lifted him out, his short coat came as a surprise and a shock.  I felt embarrassed for him, essentially naked, though I doubt he noticed. Coco had a much more extreme reaction.  She hissed at him. Not unusual coming back from the vet, so I thought she’d soon remember, get over it, and accept him again. But no, she continued to treat him as a stranger, an interloper. They’d get into little spats.  Or really she would.  She’d yowl at him.  He’s not as vocal and his voice is quieter when he does “speak.” But he’d growl at her to keep away. Never witnessed a full out fight, but I have heard them. A couple times I found fur that had flown for real, not just metaphorically.  What I picked up was longish, so mostly Coco’s. She must get the worst of it.  But she kept instigating anyway.

My Part

The standoff continued. I‘d yell at Coco to stop.  She would sometimes.  But she’s a cat, so she only listens when she feels like it. Café would hide under or behind furniture or come close to me for protection. Sometimes Coco would stop for a while. And I’d hope that would continue, that whatever switch had flipped would flip back. But just when I gave a sigh of relief, she’d start up again. No reasoning with her; she is a cat.

Odd Thoughts

At one point, I thought maybe I should have her shaved, so they’d match.  That somehow that would help her remember him. But of course, she wouldn’t, and I didn’t. Our minds can go to odd, magical-thinking, places, when we feel stymied. And I got a grip and realized it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.  Neither cat would know the difference. She wouldn’t suddenly remember again that he’s her brother.  Later, I started to wonder if this could be some kind of sibling rivalry and they were performing/acting out for me.  Did they leave each other alone when I wasn’t around?  No way to know, unless I got a nanny cam.  And that seemed way too extreme.

Consequences

One evening, I came home and sat down to eat dinner.  Coco rested on the floor nearby.  And, when I glanced down, I saw she had a big wound on her rear flank! A vet, treating another of my cats, once explained to me the way cats fight.  Common places for wounds are paws or face, if they’re head on, or the butt if they run away.  Coco must have run away.  And Café had enough already, and he caught her. And though not so brave, he is bigger and stronger.  And perhaps at the end of his patience, if that applies to cats.

Emergency

I bundled Coco into her carrier to take her to MedVet 24-hour emergency.  They downplayed till they saw the wound, large and deep enough she needed stitches.  She came home with her rear legs shaved, as well as part of one front leg where the IV had been inserted.  And she had to wear a big collar, so she couldn’t mess with the stitches.  In a way, my idea of mutual shaving had come true.  May have paused the situation, but would it make a difference?  No way to know yet.

Antibiotics, Etc.

We came home with oral antibiotics, to prevent infection. Being a cat, Coco refused/resisted. So, I took her to the vet for a two-week shot. After that, movements constricted by the collar, she couldn’t fight, just hung out on my bed.  I hand fed her little treats. And she peed on the bed. I washed all bedding and restricted her in the room with the litter box, food, and water.

Not Learning; Partial Solution

Coco’s wound healed well. But as soon as the stitches were removed and the collar came off, she was back at messing with Café. I did some research on stress and “conflict” among cats. Guess I should have thought of that before. I do know cats don’t like change. I ordered a pheromone diffuser.  Delivered, it was like a small miracle. As soon as I plugged it in, Coco calmed down right away. Not perfect: she still sometimes goes after Café. But other times, it seems she wants to be friends again, but he’s leery.  Doesn’t trust.  Hides from her when he can’t get away.

Hoping for Peace

I tell Coco there are consequences for her actions. And I don’t want to pay another big fee if she gets herself wounded again. Of course, she doesn’t understand. And probably wouldn’t listen anyway. But she has started sniffing Café’s butt and he’s started to let her.  And he’s let her lick his head a couple times. Though he still prone to growl and move away and hides. Still, I hold out hope for eventual peace or at least co-existence. Though he still growls when she only comes near.  Can’t blame him; I would too. But now, I wonder if she’s trying to play and he won’t cooperate.

My Life With Cats

For me, the biting incident has raised what I’ll call lifestyle questions. Started me delving into my reasons for keeping cats. I live alone and I like the company, having other living, breathing, moving creatures in the house. I don’t have children, but I l appreciate the chance to care for other sentient beings. And there’s a trajectory from caring to love, especially in times when it’s not fun.  Throughout, I like the way they snuggle up, climb on top of me. The way their blue eyes meet my brown eyes. My husband used to say cats are not like dogs: they consider us equals. They also bring an element of mystery into my life.  What are they thinking? Are they thinking?  Can’t ask.  Is whatever goes on inside them all just instinct?  And now, why is Cleo doing what she’s doing?  Is that just instinct? Or inability to process the change in Café? And why do these issues always have to do with their hair? A friend asked whether I have the cats, or they have me.  Probably a bit of both.

Reading Headlines and Tea Leaves

Reading headlines on the current administration, I frame them in context of my own time in local and state public and quasi-public agencies.  That aligned with some early stories that assumed/expected a degree of continuity with previous practice and structures.  But then “guerilla” DOGE tactics roared in and bent, broke, downsized, and blew such comforting narratives away. And observers segued to attempts to interpret/read tea leaves/pin down what’s really going on. Is this a land/money/data/power grab?  A collaborative assault on Constitutional checks and balances? An effort to cut back on regulation of business and industry and environmental protections?  An attempt to shift/revise/coopt history and national and international narratives?  All of the above, a friend and I recently agreed.

Personality and Power

Behind the headlines, of course, are the men pushing re-set buttons as fast and furiously as they can.  Top dog for now is Stephen Miller, Deputy Chief of Staff, Project 2025 contributor. In his own words: “I’ve spent my entire life in the conservative movement, since I was a kid in high school, working, dreaming of the day we could have a piece of legislation like what exists right now.” He referred, of course, to the president’s “Big Beautiful Bill” (BBB), which he called one of the “great achievements in the history of the conservative movement.” (Josephine Harvey. Stephen Miller Rants at Fox News Viewers in MAGA Bill Meltdown. Daily Beast. July 1, 2025). Aww. We’re witnessing a boy’s dream come true. But reports indicate he started much younger. A former third-grade classmate, sharing a desk, recalled Miller sticking a strip of tape down the middle and telling him to keep his mess on the other side, though he remembered it being far messier across the divide. (John F. Muller. I sat on the other side of Stephen Miller’s First Wall. Politico. June 22, 2018). And family and former associates have voiced befuddlement and horror. How did a kid descended from Jewish immigrants and who came out of a liberal enclave in California become an inside-the-Beltway, ninja culture warrior? (Jean Gurrero. Stephen Miller, Donald Trump, and the White Nationalist Agenda. 2020, reviewed by David Killion. The Loyalist: The cruel world according to Stephen Miller. The Nation. April 25, 2025).  Seems that, “Like Trump himself, Miller intuitively grasped that being hated in elite liberal environments was better than being ignored, and that embracing the language and tactics of conservative media offered a means for a strange and argumentative kid to stand out from a crowd of generic achievers and to fast-track his way to influence.” At

on the Other Side of Stephen Miller’s Fi

The Best Revenge?

Not surprising, in these polarized and partisan times, to find ourselves spinning competing conspiracy theories. From outside, administration operatives have “stolen” and hijacked the nation and our shared narrative. From inside, the current reset is a long overdue revolution. And revenge has become the best revenge. Miller, ultimate insider, has “amassed more power than almost anyone else at the White House.” (Josh Dawsey and Rebecca Ballhaus.  Stephen Miller’s Fingerprints Are on Everything in Trump’s Second Term. Wall Street Journal. June 20, 2025). “…[H]e has written or edited every executive order that Trump has signed.” But leaks from inside indicate he’s unpopular with colleagues: abrasive personality, impatience, open scorn for others’ intelligence, pushing for the most extreme position on every issue (Lauren Sforza. Trump henchman Stephen Miller is hated by many in administration, too. NJ.com. June 2, 2025). And his laser focus on immigration emerges in an “…obsessive drive to purge the country of undocumented immigrants [that] has become so notorious inside…Homeland Security that officials assigned one unlucky staffer to field his constant calls to spare senior figures the daily tongue-lashings…” (Tim Latchem. Insiders Spills on Trump’s Call to ICE Barbie as Protests Raged. Daily Beast. July 11., 2025).

Work Environment? No Adult Supervision

Have to wonder, what it’s like to work in this White House.  Can’t imagine the environment’s warm and fuzzy, with Miller ascendent.  And is it just me, or does the place seem to leak like the proverbial sieve (on deep background to safeguard jobs and future careers, of course)?  The frequency suggests internal dissatisfaction, even concern. And follow-up paranoid “who-dun it” searches for leakers must be extremely uncomfortable. The Musk era (hard to believe it’s only a few short months ago) produced tales of disagreements, shouting matches, even physical conflicts.  Picture cage boxing in the halls of power?  A recent article referred to “palace intrigue,” another compared to Napoleonic court maneuverings. But I’m thinking more of the Tudors, where favorites could fly high and then fall, sometimes even into “off with their heads” territory. Consider Musk’s trajectory and current threats to cancel his companies’ federal contracts and maybe even deport him. And picture the surrounding cast of junior staffers, young, conservative, careerist, strivers in training, all looking for their chance and unlikely to show mercy if they spot weakness in their “elders.” Does that explain why Trump 2.0 lacks seasoned “adults in the room.” Were none invited, or did they shy away from even trying to ride herd? Knew they’d be disregarded, scoffed at, if they urged caution and restraint, reminded what’s been tried before and didn’t work and why? Point out what could lead to unforeseen and even disastrous consequences.

Cloudy With Resentment and Chaos

Except in very early days, I’ve seen little mention that the election did not indeed create a mandate, since almost half the electorate voted against. But don’t quibble over details. The gloating, often cruel, “boys’ club” tone reminds of a bunch of adolescents turned loose with a new computer game and dragging the country along, like it or not.  As per the president, we can get away with anything!  But after years of working up and getting worked up over their ideas, implementation has often proven ham-fisted and tone-deaf. Do they see themselves clearing the deck, disregarding what’s come before, rather than borrowing and adapting “best practices” that have actually worked? And lame “alternate truths” storylines can’t stand up to fact checking and real-world phone videos of resistance demonstrations and ICE raids. And then there’s cloud of shrill social-media trash talk, with the president taking the lead, scattering nicknames and superlatives as he goes.  Nasty! Stupid! Nastiest! Stupidest!  And there are accusations opponents suffer “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” But nicknames cut both ways, and the opposition has taken up Wall Street’s TACO (Trump Always Chickens Out).  And then there’s the rising Greek chorus of psychologists conducting remote video assessments of his mental capacity and pointing out signs he’s slipping into dementia. Of course, there’s pushback:  no, that was Biden and let’s have Congress investigate! To clear my head, I turn to European thinkers who have navigated their own dark and chaotic times early and too often. The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche saw the “dynamics of resentment in the erasure of the difference between words and deeds.  (quoted in Svetlana Boyem. Another Freedom: The Alternative History of an Idea. University of Chicago Press. 2012). “Resentment provokes dialogue, but it is not about the word of the other or the freedom of the other…Resentment might feed imagination, but it is a paranoid imagination, a form of delusion that imagines the other…only as the other paranoid whose sole raison d’etre is to persecute me. I don’t like the other, it must be his/her fault…builds too many blind alleys and conspiratorial plots.”

End of Empathy and Playing to the Base

Despite the administration’s claims of transparency, “The architecture of resentment…[can become] a refuge from worldly checks and balances, from the gaze of the other that can lay bare the fictitiousness of one’s remembered injuries.” (Boyem).  Miller’s abhorrence of immigrants is matched by Russell Vought’s (Office of Management and Budget) animus against federal workers, apparently viewing them as carriers of “deep state” conspiracies. They should “not want to go to work because they are increasingly viewed as the villains. We want to put them in trauma.” (Will Neal. Trump Official Backpedals as Wild Trauma Plot Exposed. Daily Beast. June 1, 2025).  Did he cross his fingers behind his back when he claimed he didn’t mean to be so mean spirited?  He calls himself a “Christian Nationalist,” a movement that combines new Calvinism, predestination of the righteous, gospel of wealth, anti-DEI. (Aja Romano. Christian nationalists decided empathy is a sin. Now it’s gone mainstream.  Vox. May 22, 2025).  Have to wonder if that leaves any room for the Golden Rule.

End of Expertise

Miller’s portfolio has also included “the administration’s broadsides against universities, law firms and even museums.”  (Dawsey and Ballhaus).  The House of Representatives has approved clawing back previously approved funding from (NPR) National Public Radio and (PBS) Public Broadcasting System. The measure will move on to the Senate. So much for expertise, First Amendment freedom of speech, dissent. Reads like politics of resentment, intended to dumb down public discourse and leave no one with the capacity to talk back, to question, to mount any effective resistance. A few conservatives have not found BBB so beautiful, especially when it comes to Medicaid cuts.  And dissent has come from unexpected quarters. Some years back, Lawrence Summers was ousted, at the urging of faculty, for claiming women’s underrepresentation in math and sciences reflects our lack the mental capacity. Ever heard of Marie Curie, the women who discovered CRISPR gene editing tech, etc. etc.? But now, he’s perhaps stepped into the role of an adult not in the room (?), and written a “hardheaded” opposition opinion. That it “will most likely slow growth, risk a financial crisis, exacerbate trade deficits and undermine national security by exhausting the government’s borrowing capacity. This is more than ample reason to regret its passage.” He went on to say, “As more people realize what is coming, there is time to alter these policies before grave damage is done. TACO (Trump Always Chickens Out) is a doctrine that should apply well beyond financial markets.”  (This Law Made Me Ashamed of My Country. New York Times Opinion. July 8, 2025).

Go Along to Get Along

Some media, law firms, universities have tried going along to get along. But Havard has deployed its vast resources to fight back.  Business publications and Murdoch-owned outlets try to normalize, imply there’s not really a problem, except perhaps with the chaotic methods. One such story cautioned against going too far.  But what might restraint look like in these days of “alternate truths,” when “It is hard to get Trump supporters to feel alarmed [over the damage], even self-protectively—…the base is still feeling its own special mood of triumphal bitterness: That’ll teach the swamp. They’re enjoying the comeuppance of the Democrats, and the arrival of better policies. They’re justly proud to have a president who actually does things, and is bold. And the Biden era was corrupt, they argue. How touching and antique, how fully RINO to be concerned about forms and traditions that are long gone, and with integrity and the appearance of integrity.” (Peggy Noonan. Broken Windows at the White House. Wall Street Journal Opinion. May 15, 2025).

What’s Normal?

Reaching for perspective, I again turn to eastern European thinkers for more realistic insights into the risks of going along to get along. The Russian Alexei Yurchak coined the term “hypernormalization” to describe civilian experience in the former Soviet Union. “[I]n a society…. where what you are feeling is the disconnect between seeing that systems are failing, that things aren’t working … and yet the institutions and the people in power just are…ignoring it and pretending everything is going to go on the way that it has.”  (Adrienne Matei. Systems are crumbling – but daily life continues. The dissonance is real. The Guardian. May 22, 2025). In this case, the way they want it to go, no questions asked.  And “…for reasons including a lack of effective leadership and an inability to imagine how to disrupt the status quo…..people carry on their lives as normal despite systemic dysfunction—give or take a heavy load of fear, dread, denial and dissociation.” (Rahaf Harfoush, digital anthropologist, quoted in Matei).  Sounds familiar.

Learning Life Lessons?

Can we hope this crop of young hotshots will learn, be chastened by their own overreach in taking decisions and actions that shake the country and the world?  Seems unlikely considering what we know of them and their actions so far.  Note signs of Dunning-Kruger Effect. The converse of “Imposter Syndrome,” it recognizes the “double curse of incompetence,…[that] individuals with limited knowledge in a specific area overestimate their abilities and are also unaware of their own incompetence….[so they] are not only performing poorly but are also unlikely to learn and improve because they underestimate the gap between their perceived and actual competence.” (Google AI).  And there’s always someone else to blame—Biden, Obama—with psychological projection, “attributing ‘unacceptable’ features to others.”  And, with the administration’s notoriously thin skins, it’s back to the attack. And there’s a temptation to various types of brinkmanship. A Vox article drew parallels from recent bombing of Iran’s nuclear program to decisions that drew/lured the US into the 2003 Iraq War (Zack Beauchamp. Three ways Trump’s Iran attack could spin out of control. June 22, 2025).  The neo-con “architects” running things back then weren’t so young, but they were arrogant, thought they had all the answers, but had “little to no understanding of the second-order consequences….” I recall watching Dick Cheney, on a Sunday news program, promise a “land-based aircraft carrier “in the middle East. Oh really? Easy and tempting, when you’re on top, to fall into simplistic and self-serving thinking. But, “There was so much they didn’t know, both about…the country and the likely consequences of regime change more broadly, that they failed to grasp just how much of a quagmire the war might become…” And they didn’t bother or care to learn. And now, over 20 years later and counting and despite election promises to pull out, there’s still no clear exit in sight.  Think Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby, stuck and can’t get out.  So much for looking before you leap.

What Now?

Important to remember that “What makes dysfunction so dangerous is that we might simply learn to live with it.” Consider those go-along articles. But recognizing potential hazards can “give us language – and permission…and clarify[y] the risk of not taking action when we can.” Ursula K. Le Guin, accepting a National Book Award, said, “We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art, the art of words. This world we’ve created is ultimately a choice.” And “It doesn’t have to be like this.” (Matei). I think of Woody Guthrie singing, “This land is your land, this land is my land.”   And I remember that the “No Kings” demonstrations drew 5M people, while the president’s self-celebration only drew about 250K. This story is not over.

Writing and Finishing My Book/Novel

So, I just finished my book/novel. It’s titled The Sheriff Kills Kids. I feel both proud of myself and a bit befuddled. What am I supposed to do with myself now? Took me about 10 years, not that I spent the whole time continuously writing.  When people ask what it’s about, I say it’s about two women who are side girlfriends of a local Sheriff and DA.  Lacking any power, they combine with a bunch of even more powerless street kids to try to make the men lose an election.

What Else Is My Book About?

What else is my book about?  Even I didn’t quite get that till I finished:  it’s about having no power but doing what you need to/what you must do/what you’re compelled to do anyway.  It’s also a tale of grief and loss: people/kids do die. And it’s a coming-of-age tale, as well as a revenge tale.

The Very Idea of a Novel

Novel means “new,” but after 10 years, can’t say this is new or that I’m new to it. Can say that I have reinvented it multiple times. I found ways to tighten the story, build in more tension and complicate relationships. And so, the writing kept surprising me.  I have learned so much more than I expected about and through these characters.  Helped that I came to like my main characters and at least understand, to some degree, the villains they come up against.  And I’ve learned so much about myself too.  So, the work has been a stretch, but it’s never grew old and stale. The process stayed alive, kept coming back to life as I spun out the storylines.  As they spun out ahead of and sometimes back behind me. I’d go to bed not knowing what came next, but then I’d wake up in the morning and it would be there. And I recalled my first writing teacher, an old socialist/communist, on his second career, after being blacklisted out of the union movement, where he’d been an organizer. He said, “If you’re not learning anything from your writing, you’re not writing it right.”  Amen.

Ten Years Is a Long Time

There is a time factor: do works in progress have limited shelf lives? That did not happen with me with this book.  I kept finding my way back to it. Susan Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love) has said that taking on a novel is making a commitment of two years of your life.  For me, that was clearly an underestimate, an understatement.  I had about 100 pages a few years back.  Took them to an editor with a writer’s workshop and asked/paid her to read.  She told me you have a novel, but you need about 100 more pages.  I put it aside and then was encouraged to pick it up again by the folks who help me with marketing and presentation of my blog.  So, they have done extra duty. I went back and rewrote the 100 pages and then added in the rest. And now, here we are.  Here I am. The book is now a bit over 200 pages. It will be on Amazon.  And a chapter at a time on WattPad.  It will be in a short run (50 copies) in hard copy

How’d I Come Up With the Story?

People always ask where the story came from.  I can only say that stories are everywhere.  Just have to keep your eyes and ears open.  I have been doing that all my life.  Known for kind of “interrogating” visitors when they came to the house.  “Are you married?  Do you have kids?” Knowing my mother, she told me to stop.  No one wants to hear from you.  Children should be seen but not heard.  Yet I couldn’t stop. I had the gift of curiosity, the burning need to know about other people.  What were their stories?

Sharing Stories

I have known one woman who asked and her husband since we all worked for FEMA after Hurricane Katrina (2005).  My husband had died the year before and I was still in walking-wounded territory. Her now husband was a team lead, and they met when she joined his team. FEMA as cupid!  I was on another team, with more challenging folks.  Clueless team lead and two exhibitionist/narcissist women, one of whom I’d known before and who tried to get me fired.  She did not succeed. On the positive side, I shared a table with a good partner, and he and I laughed a lot. And I staked out my territory, collecting info and serving as coastal and environmental lead

I could have told my friend there was a story there, but it isn’t one I want to tell. I didn’t feel moved to spend any more time in that world than I already had. I didn’t do the online disaster management training other folks did either. Didn’t feel drawn to specialize in that direction.

More on Where Stories Come From

This story, this book, is one I needed to tell. The story came, as they always do, from listening and watching life happen.  And then embroidering and weaving strands together. The two women/side girlfriends are at the heart, form the core/hub of the book.  They have the powerlessness women share. But then they find work arounds. I think of what my sister, an artist, once said when asked (by a man of course), if she felt like God in making the “worlds” she did.  She told him, “I can’t be God; I’m a woman

Moving out from the main characters, I found other snatches of stories that at first seemed to have nothing to do with the main theme. But somehow they had a congruence, rang true, with the core story.  And I found ways, backstories, to massage them to fit: Street kids another set of powerless people.  And together they become more than the sum of their parts.  A bunch of Davids taking down Goliaths.  Because they had nothing to lose?

My sister also said, “We are stardust.”  Creativity takes us to miracles beyond our reach. What we didn’t know and didn’t expect. Though we insist on acting like it’s all mundane and every day.  Yet we don’t know where and how stories might turn up and where they could take us.

Longer Commitment

To write this piece, I’ve also paid attention to what other writers have said about their writing processes. For a while, I subscribed to a newsletter called Writers Ask…Short pieces told of losing jobs, going through divorces, withdrawing to cabins in the woods, having no alternative and not coming out till they crossed the finish line or thought they had. Can’t find those pages now; it is so easy to lose things that once mattered. I do have the non-fiction book Blue Highways, which William Heat Moon spent four years writing.  He started during and after a divorce, then moved into another relationship that fell apart when he found a publisher.  Interesting how that can happen even in good times. Later, he wrote a couple other non-fiction road books, with a publisher who had turned down the first book, not seeing a market. Turns out they were wrong: the book made the NY Times best-seller list. He taught college-level creative writing. Then he penned Writing Blue Highways. To try to understand his journey? I understand/get how writing a book/story became part of identity, and can be hard to let go of. Trying to get it perfect, though knowing it never can be.  Eventually you have to release it and put it out into the world

Useful Blue Highways Insights

• “…If the circle had come full turn, I hadn’t. I can’t say, over the miles, that I learned what I had wanted to know because I hadn’t known what I wanted to know. But I did learn what I didn’t know I wanted to know.”
• “Each day, I made sure to at least touch the manuscript …Fearing a halt in the writing for even a single day…allowed myself no escapes from the work. A writer finds confidence in continuance. Step away too long, and morale, dedication, tenacity might just fizzle out….Neither liking or disliking the writing tasks, whatever they were, I merely did each day what needed to be done next, and it had nothing to do with inspiration and everything to do with simple execution. I became the doing itself, and that helped nullify, in moments of weariness, a sense that I was just scuffling along the drop edge of yonder.”
• Not like that for me: I hadn’t revisited what I’d written for a long time. I had to track down and excavate from my computer(s). Again, so easy to lose. But when I came back, I found the story was still there. Still in me.
• “…so I did what writers do: stared. Finally something whispered, For now, forget about getting it right and just write!

• “What the hell: Everybody’s a writer the first day. It’s the days thereafter when one may discover that having a story to tell differs from having the discipline to tell it, which differs yet further from the dedication to tell it well.”
• “To become a writer, one must first pretend to be a writer.”

Reading a Book Together

My brother and I recently read a book together. Well, not exactly together, but more like around the same time. The book connected to our shared history, growing up “in baseball.” He sent me the copy he ordered that crossed in shipping with the one his son/my nephew ordered for his birthday. So, call this intergenerational family legacy, convergence, and perhaps a micro version of local library “one city, one book” projects? But we’ve narrowed down to just the two of us left, from an original four siblings who parallel played that phase of our lives.

Object and Reaction

The book is not about our father and his career. The book is about another, more well-known, man and his career with the same ball club, the Baltimore Orioles (John W. Miller. The Last Manager: How Earl Weaver Tricked, Tormented, and Reinvented Baseball. Avid Reader Press. c2025). No financial outlay on my part, but there was emotional baggage. After the box arrived, I put it aside and didn’t open it for over a week. Then, when I did, I had to remove the dust jacket, a very bright orange to which I had a visceral reaction. Orioles orange, my brother pointed out. But tempered by surrounding white or gray of uniforms, I countered. The hardback cover under the jacket is white, with black lettering.

Can’t Be Objective

Not a story I can approach “objectively,” so I started thinking about how I’d have written it differently. Put in more of the context and texture I still carry within. Visuals: ballparks were often painted dark forest green, as if sourced from some central commissary. Even in the lower minor leagues, diamonds had a dynamic geometry , green grass framing the sweep of the basepaths and leading up to the pitcher’s mound. And soundscapes: balls smacking into mitts, the thwack of wooden bats hitting balls. The ping of metal bats doesn’t carry the same satisfying resonance. And there were players calls to the pitcher. Sounded to me like “Hom, Babe,” but was probably “Come on, Babe.” Haven’t been to a ballgame in many years. So, I don’t know if players still use the same mantra, but baseball’s traditional, so it’s probably passed down. Most important, I’d include and give more credit to the fascinating cast of surrounding characters, not just our dad, but other genuine old time baseball men—Fred “Bootnose” Hoffman (those great nicknames!), George Staller, Ray Scarborough, Vern Hosheit, etc., etc. Some scouted and signed players before, others would manage them in the minor leagues after. In between, at spring training, the old pros came together to school their picks in skills like pitching, catching, bunting, sliding. But this is not the book I’d have written. Going back to the dustcover, it shows Earl floating on the sea of orange, as if he did it, got there, all on his own.

Same Family, Different POVs

My brother, 5 years older, often shares more detailed memories. And he supplements with online research. I don’t delve that deep and sometimes disagree when I have specific physical memories of times and places. But I don’t push my points. Memories are frangible and as personal as our own skins. To paraphrase Anais Nin, we don’t see the world as it is; we see it as we are. And of course, gender makes a big difference. He could be batboy, going into clubhouses and dugouts, and traveling along on road trips, while our two sisters and I could not. Downside for him were disillusioning moments like seeing a former major leaguer, whose baseball card he owned, selling signals to the other team. I, lifelong observer, listener, story collector and teller, have my own tales around places like the spring-training “family barracks,” where we’d spend Easter weeks. Off the field, but only semi-domesticated: we’d overhear voices-raised, late night, drunken gatherings in the “Bird’s Nest” lounge—telling stories, arguing fine points, rating and ranking players to keep or cut and send home. Not sure whether I heard or just became aware that a physical fight broke out one night. Think a gossipy aging boy’s club, of mostly heavy drinkers, who though past their primes, remained highly physical. And they never thought to tone it down “in front of the kids.” Think more like unfiltered, uncensored, “take the kids to work” days.

Mythology

Children accept and accommodate as given what we’re born into. My siblings and I knew too much to ever succumb to “field of dreams” fan nostalgia. But for those less steeped in the realities, baseball can lend itself to legend-making and mythologizing, and a kind of boyish hero worship, especially among those who never played for a living. Think the “equipment-manager-nerd” model, guys who could never make the team but wanted to hang around those who did. Back to the dustjacket, which features a blurb/quote from superfan intellectual/commentator George Will: “Baseball books don’t get any better than this.” Oh, really?! I can think of two “right off the bat.” Roger Kahn’s masterful Boys of Summer (Harper Collins. 1972) traced the arc of the careers of the Brooklyn Dodgers team of the watershed seasons when Jackie Robinson broke the color line, and then what came after, finding their ways into regular life as their bodies aged. The title, which Kahn fought publishers to keep, is from a Dylan Thomas poem: “I see the boys of summer in their ruin.” Happens to even the best. More controversially, think Jim Bouton’s Ball Four (MacMillan. 1970), which chronicled his own desperate deterioration, a pitcher with a failing arm, trying to hang on, even as he lifted the veil on what goes on in dugouts and clubhouses.

Alternate Truths

Of course, organized baseball has never needed any help embellishing and protecting its own legend. Bowie Kuhn, then Commissioner of Baseball, tried to force Bouton to sign a statement that his book was all a lie, made up. But the author refused, because it was neither. And like that, he was essentially thrown out of baseball. This is in line with the silly whopper about Gen. Abner Doubleday “inventing” the game during the Civil War. “America’s pastime” had to have patriotic American origins rooted in that rupture in national history, right? There was even a commission set up to fabricate the myth: very George Washington not telling a like after chopping down the cherry tree. In fact, it was most likely a development on the English game of rounders. Further embroidering led to locating the Baseball Hall of Fame in Doubleday’s hometown, tiny Cooperstown, NY. Telling that, for years, sports writers did the electing. When Kahn broke out in praise, one of the old-timers told him not to talk like a sportswriter. Now, there’s a veterans’ committee it’s presumed adds a more realistic perspective to the voting.

Questions of Luck and Timing

So, two careers intersected yet differed. Both men played in the minor leagues, but didn’t make the majors. Both were short: Earl reportedly around 5 foot 7, our dad around 5 foot 8. So, could there have been a bit of Napoleon complex? Both were known for arguing with umpires. It wasn’t unusual to see our dad thrown out of games. He was 15 years older; a country boy, a quintessential “baseball man” purist, almost Victorian in his feelings and attitudes toward “the game.” He had a gift for bringing young players along focusing on the future and specialized in fixing teams in trouble—mustering failing and flailing players to stumble through and finish the season, replacing managers who had flamed out. He is not in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Earl was, as the book’s subtitle indicates, a newer model, a scrappy, opportunistic, crafty, urban street-kid, with a low-level Mafiosi connection who introduced him early to gambling and games of chance. That apparently started his insight into the odds of the game. He favored veteran and proven players, focused on what they could do now rather than the future. Crucially, these factors converged with a whole lot more luck. Without that combination, there would be no book, and I would not be writing this piece. That combination put him in the Baseball Hall of Fame, as a manager.

What Else Bothers Me About This Book

No surprise that “the winner” gets the press and the book. But I note signs of minimal, slipshod, research. How could Miller omit Pee Wee Reese and Honus Wagner from his list of great shortstops when he praised Earl’s putting Cal Ripken, Jr. in that position? Except for Cal, Sr., Bootnose, and our dad, the other guys don’t even rate a mention. And there are factual errors regarding our father. Miller writes that he and Earl were “buddies,” when in our family we know for a fact he did not like Earl but had to work with him. The mention of our dad is contained in a throwaway line, apparently lifted from an anecdote told by Orioles pitcher Jim Palmer. His love-hate relationship with Earl does make the book. But including our dad is pointless to the progress of the narrative, so, why even bother to put it in? Miller also writes that Earl ran the Thomasville spring training camp, when in fact our dad did, and everyone knew it. And, though Miller reportedly conducted multiple background interviews, he failed to root the narrative in informants’ words and voices. Kahn, on the other hand, included portions of his conversations with the retired players, who spoke of having balls thrown at their heads for daring to play beside Robinson. And Bouton wrote, in journal form, of still looking and feeling like he was in his late 20s, while his arm (the pitcher’s asset and obsession) felt like it was 100. Miller does say Earl had demons, and you wouldn’t want him to “date your daughter.” But then he offers no evidence, mostly includes positive comments. A theory: biographers spend a whole lot of time on and with their subjects and thus come to either come to love or hate them. And it seems Miller had decided to like Earl or at least tow the official “party line” and avoid telling darker aspects of the story.

Flamboyance, Luck and Helping Hands

Roger Angell of the New Yorker called Earl the “best naked interview.” That loose-cannon sense made good copy for the generally non-physical men who wrote about sports and admired or felt intimidated by the men they covered. And then there’s the intangible element of luck. And this shows up in winning statistics and is recognized. But rising up the ranks is seldom an accident. Earl had the extra advantage of a sponsor in Harry Dalton, Farm Director and later GM of the Orioles, who noticed him early and brought him along. As I trace Earl’s progress/his rise through the minors, I note it appears our dad was often used to fill spaces he did not/had vacated. Dad was even pulled off a team that went on to win the league pennant to fix another. Couldn’t they at least have given him that? But such considerations did not fit the corporate business model and mindset.

Alcohol and Gambling

Baseball is a wickedly difficult game, a team sport based on individual skills that must mesh on the field. Players compete to win their places and then to hold onto them as they age. My brother and I agree they’ll use whatever they can to gain an edge. Witness the steroid scandal of the 1980s to around 2000 and batting records with asterisks. Managing is an even tougher job, blamed for losses but discounted when the team wins—talent could have done without. Enough to “drive to drink” men so inclined? And in my experience, many were. Miller quoted Bill James, baseball-guide maven, finding that 18 of the 25 top-ranked managers were alcoholics. Have to wonder if the other 7 were just better at covering up or had other vices. Growing up, though we only “visited” springs and summers, baseball and alcohol were intertwined constants, a fact of life we took for granted. Yet I still wonder how James arrived at that number. Did he ask, conduct a survey? More likely, he relied on always floating rumors and gossip. Palmer described Earl often falling-down drunk in the clubhouse after games. Some clubhouses, my brother tells me, even stocked beer. Pete Rose didn’t drink or drug, or so we’re told, but he bet on his own team. Baseball has a special horror of gambling, going back to the Black Sox Scandal and the throwing of the 1919 World Series. And so, Rose’s offense got him banned for life, no chance to make the Hall of Fame. As far as we know, Earl didn’t bet on his own teams, but we know that he played golf for money against his own minor league players. And resentful players on one team held back, almost throwing him into his first losing season. And again, our dad was called on to fix the problem. Not that he wanted to. Our sister recalled him dodging the calls. But eventually he gave in and put a stop to intra-team gambling. And after that, the team started winning again.

Karma?

A little research shows the Orioles, during their “golden age” (1966 to 1983), won three World Series and six American League pennants. In recent years, they have become a 2nd tier club at best. In a small market, they no longer invest in building their own stars or buying them. Earl won only a single World Series. Harry Dalton, later named “Baseball Man of the Year,” went on to be General Manager of the LA Angels and then the Milwaukee Brewers. But, as my brother notes, he never did as well in either post. And he too only won that single World Series. Can we attribute that to karma or the lack of the cadre of exceptional baseball men who created the systems that made the magic work?

Unparalleled at the End

Our father died just before he would have turned 51. The Orioles swept the World Series in four straight games that year. I view that as a testament to his years of work. Not another win for Earl, who was not managing the team yet. He died at 63. Notice, both went quite young: men who depended on their bodies, yet did not take good care of them. Think the alcohol, the stress. Earl died on the Original Baltimore Orioles Baseball Cruise, another profit-center chance to attract avid fans eager to hang out with their heroes/stars. But then he went and shuffled off before the fans could get their money’s worth. After Dad’s death, my brother had calls from many of his former players, who said they loved him. Some viewed him as like a second father. I doubt anything like that happened with Earl. A text from my brother: “Earl was a baseball innovator…wildly successful…. Many of his former players hated him but recognized his value in baseball.” My brother added that he had known similar people in business. Of course, love doesn’t win ball games. But a friend reminded me that, despite the saying, winning is not always the most important thing when you balance it with the rest of life. But I doubt either of these men knew how to find such a balance.

Who’s Talking? Can We Talk or Not?

A few months into the new administration, I find myself musing on conversation and ways we humans have of either talking with or at each other. Ideas started percolating when I joined a series of community-based conversations. And I wondered what happens when we quit making the effort to try to “read” and understand, mirror, respond to each other?

Conversation vs. Monologue and Performance

Conversation is, by definition, speaking together, talking, listening, engaging, exchanging, sharing, comparing POVs, adjusting to try to find common ground or not. As per Wikipedia, this is a learned skill, not inborn. “Development of conversational skills and etiquette is an important part of socialization.” But right now, we hear more Monologue and Performance. Think the President’s meandering, “weaving,” talks, apparently free-associating whatever pops into his head. Buddhists call “monkey mind” the unfocused inner chatter that fills all our heads with anxieties, daydreams, and tangents.  Perhaps, in these unsettled times, devotees recognize and resonate. But every action has a reaction, and enabler Congressmen and Senators have faced pushback at town hall meetings with constituents. Trying to explain and defend the massive and often incoherent cuts, they have been booed and shouted down by angry voters even in very red districts of Georgia, Texas, North Carolina. Rather than listening and trying to understand and engage with swelling dissatisfaction, recipients/targets have called the behavior “rude.” Oh, really?! Isn’t give-and-take the way democracies are supposed to work? And then there are the claims Democrats “infiltrated” meetings. As if these folks only represent “their” voters, who don’t have the capacity to get angry on their own.  Advice from GOP leadership: stop holding town hall meetings. So, shut down any attempts at conversation and feedback. This reads like shortsighted denial and avoidance that leaves smoldering anger unaddressed. Whatever happened to “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen”?

Hijacking the Country

So, consider the country hijacked. Or in a repetitive slow-motion car crash (as per film director James Cameron, while planning to leave).  Anne Applebaum of the Atlantic said on NPR’s Fresh Air (Feb. 19, 2025) that this is how democracies fail these days “through attacks on institutions coming from within.” She identifies what we’re seeing as regime change. That’s “the partly forcible or coercive replacement of one government regime with another… replac[ing] all or part of the state’s most critical leadership system, administrative apparatus, or bureaucracy.” (Wikipedia). Strategies include “chaos censorship,” “overwhelming actual information with disinformation and noise, blurring moral lines and confusing people to the point where it becomes difficult to discern truth from falsehood. Instead of directly suppressing information…[and] those who control the chaos can effectively manipulate public opinion and sow discord.” (AI Summary).  George Orwell would recognize “doublespeak,” using “language that deliberately obscures, disguises, distorts, or reverses the meaning of words.” (Wikipedia). There is “determination to deprive their citizens of any real influence or public voice, to push back against all forms of transparency or accountability, and to repress anyone, at home or abroad, who challenges them.” (Applebaum. Autocracy, Inc. Doubleday. 2024).

Shadow Play

An old song keeps coming to mind: “It’s only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sky, but it wouldn’t be make believe if you believed in me.”  (Harold Arlen melody. Yip Harburg and Billy Rose lyrics). Popular during WWII, when folks needed to believe/hope they could make it through to a post-war future. These days, MAGA faithful, having guzzled the Kool-Aid, may believe that, with shadow play, they’re finally onto the “real thing.” Tear down “deep state” bureaucracy and the country will rise like a phoenix into a “great” future. Meanwhile, the rest of us stand horrified at the chaos and cruelty, anxious, worried, attuned to the gaps between “alternate truths” presented without adequate or even any explanation and the ongoing destruction/disruption to the nation and our standing in the world. And this all happening with essentially no oversight.  And we have few official resources to resist. The Scofflaw administration resists or refuses to comply with federal judicial rulings that don’t go its way and threatens to impeach judges who issue such rulings.

Who’s Talking?

On Marc Maron’s WTF podcast, he and Chris Hayes of MSNBC agreed the country is now being run by trolls. “The two most powerful men in the world are obsessed with attracting attention.”  And negative attention, throwing the country into fear and anxiety just because they can, is even better. So, we find ourselves caught in a “folie a deux,” pairing of two showmen, both adept at hyping their brands but with erratic records in running their companies (Paul Klein. Not a Founder, Not a Leader. Forbes. March 8, 2025).  They “thrive on disruption and spectacle, and, in Trump’s case, “excel at marketing, with an instinctive ability to tap into cultural and consumer sentiment.” Both have histories of “over promising, but underdelivering.” First day in office, inflation will end, prices will come down.  Oh, really?! Trump has “little patience for operational complexity, preferring quick wins over long-term strategic planning, [and] whiplash management, improvising as he goes, rather than data driven decision making, disciplined execution, or talent retention.” Musk seems to operate like a sole proprietor, spreading himself thin across multiple ventures, and pushing fast-track production and development schedules that often fail to materialize. Sci Fi dreams of Mission to Mars by 2030!  Fallout: multiple recalls, fatal accidents with self-driving system, explosion of two SpaceX rockets. “Rockets are hard,” he said in an interview. No kidding.  And when his split attention wanes, so it seems do his companies. Have to wonder what his investors are thinking in continuing to back him. Seems some are starting to reconsider.  (Victor Tangermann. One of Tesla’s Biggest Supporters is Running Out of Patience. Futurism. March 12, 2025; Yasmeen Hamadeh. Big-Shot Tesla Investor Begs Musk to Drop Out as CEO. Ross Gerber, an investor involved with Tesla for over a decade, pleaded for Musk to either step down as CEO or forgo government instead. (Daily Beast. March 18, 2025).

Running Government Like Silicon Valley?

We’ve long heard calls to “run government like a business.” This misses the point that government is not a business; it does things business would not do. And what we’re seeing is a Silicon Valley business model, rather than a regular business model. “The federal government built Silicon Valley, a fact many of its entrepreneurs and legends — basking in the reflection of their self-glorification — choose to ignore, or fail to understand.” (Margaret O’Mara. The Code: Silicon Valley and the Remaking of America. 2019; Stephen Mihm. How the Department of Defense Bankrolled Silicon Valley. NY Times. July 2019). But don’t try to tell Musk and other tech moguls, who like to view themselves as self-made, though many had the jumpstart of family money.

Whose Opinions Count

Venture capitalist and LinkedIn co-founder Reid Hoffman, who goes way back, says Musk doesn’t value anyone else’s opinion, always thinks he knows better/best, even in unfamiliar territory (Barbara Kollmeyer.  LinkedIn co-founder has known Elon Musk for years. Here’s what he says Americans don’t understand about the Tesla CEO. MarketWatch. March 11, 2025). And tech “ignorance or arrogance [comes with a] deeply embedded notion…that because government is not market-driven ‘it is, by definition, stodgy and inefficient and wasteful and corrupt.’ They think that people working in government “aren’t very smart. The smart people all go to work in business.” (Mark Z. Barabak.   It’s been a disaster. LA Times.  March 16, 2025). If you’re so smart, why aren’t you rich? So much for concepts of public service and the dedicated public servants I have worked with. So, off with their heads, along with their expertise?  Projections: this presidency “offers a case study in the risks of founder-style leadership without operational discipline. When this happens even the best businesses aren’t sustainable over time. In politics, it’s safe to say that failure is inevitable—for him and for the country.”  (Klein). Recent troubles and investor impatience around Musk’s Tesla brand suggest potential for a similar outcome.

Adolescent Cruelty/No Adult Supervision/Sleeping in the Office

There’s a clueless/heartless/cruel adolescent-boy edge to the entire project. This is exemplified by the boss/non-boss (depending on who’s talking). The DOGE model reads like a larger version of “what he did at Twitter” — an initial step was firing 80% of the workforce— and attempting to port it over to the federal government.” But the federal government “is not a small- to medium-sized, unprofitable social media company. And the jury is still out on whether that was actually an effective way to manage Twitter.” (O’Mara). Yet the young minions have been unleashed to take their cyber hatchets to the system. Don’t call what they’re doing actual audits. “It’s…crack[ing] systems open without full understanding.”  (Vittoria Elliott. ‘It’s a Heist’: Real Federal Auditors Are Horrified by DOGE. Wired. March 18, 2025. ). Off hours, these guys sleep in the office. (Noor Al-Sibai. You Can See When Elon Musk Actually Sleeps by Analyzing His Tweets, and It’s Terrifying. Futurism. March 2, 2025; Dylan Scott. Elon Musk is trying to make sleep deprivation cool again. Vox. Feb. 24, 2025).  Installation of sleep “pods” (i.e., sofa beds) enables work around the clock. And seems the role model does not exert anything resembling “adult supervision.” Witness his dance with chain saw, posting of poop emojis, and his tasteless, puerile penis, boob and Nazi jokes. And there are the contradictory claims the crew works 120 hours a week, and thus “beats” their opponents, meaning federal workers/public servants who work “only” 40-hour weeks. But then he moved in a TV and video games for the troops, after earlier inflating his own scores. And he himself must take some time for other activities, since he has now reportedly fathered his 14^th child.  Does this represents a new, revised, definition of “family values”?

Follow the Money

Beyond wear and tear to the nation, society, the world, what price tag are we paying for all this in monetary terms? Before this administration took office, I recall floating of ideas that the reviewers (or whatever they’re called) would be unpaid, voluntary, positions for MBAs and techies. Musk claimed, “compensation would be zero.” But I was always skeptical and started wondering very early how these folks are being paid—and how much.  Turns out Some DOGE Staffers Are Drawing Six-Figure Government Salaries (Kate Knibbs. Wired. March 4, 2025).  And these “salaries…sometimes [come] from the very agencies they are cutting.”  Oh, the irony!

And some DOGers are also double-dipping, working other jobs at the same time, while funding for the DOGE push has now grown to around $40M. Does this include ordering Ikea furniture to furnish the DOGE dorm? Musk himself has, since 2008, been awarded $38B in US government contracts.  At any other time, this would be considered conflict of interest. But I guess ethics rules have changed too.

Taking Consequences/Free Speech

Amazing, but it seems possible the perpetrators assumed they could pull off their agenda without themselves suffering any consequences. The President, with his long Teflon history, might just slip by for now. But Musk attracts growing public ire. Tesla Takedown, picketing, vandalizing, sabotaging vehicles, dealerships, and charging stations is ramping up here and in Europe. Could this be a Tea Party moment from the opposite direction? And now, he’s trying to doublespeak/spin the situation: Elon Musk shocked by hatred against him, Tesla. (Theo Burman. Newsweek. March 19, 2025).  Speaking with Sean Hannity on Fox News, Musk said he found the backlash against Tesla “shocking,” and added: “I’ve never done anything harmful, I’ve only done productive things.” He continued:  “It’s really come as quite a shock to me, this violence from the left. I thought the Democrats were supposed to be the party of empathy, the party of caring, and yet they’re burning down cars, and firing bullets into dealerships.” But don’t take his empathy comment as positive. He told podcaster Joe Rogan, “the fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy, the empathy exploit … [T]hey’re exploiting a bug in Western civilization, which is the empathy response.” (Heather Digby Parton. One question remains: What is the true motivation behind Musk’s DOGE project? Salon. March 3, 2025). Really?  And here I consider empathy our greatest superpower, what connects us, allows us to build community. Now, as with the town hall meetings, there are claims “radical left lunatics…illegally and collusively boycott Tesla.”  Trump has now bought a brand-new Tesla (or was it two?) and parked it/them in the WH driveway.  Can we expect a TV commercial?  Question:  did Trump use his money or ours?  And now, Republicans are trying to sic federal law enforcement on Elon Musk’s critics (Clarissa-Jan Lim. March 13, 2025; Ryan Bort. Trump Cries for Elon, Blames ‘Illegal” Liberal Boycott for Tanking Tesla. Rolling Stone. March 11, 2025). And Musk himself has claimed, without evidence, that “60 Minutes are the biggest liars in the world” after running a segment on dismantling of USAID, and that “they deserve a long prison sentence.”  (David Keating. When free speech champion Elon Musk threatens speech, we should take it seriously | Opinion. USA Today. March 20, 2025). So much for the First Amendment.

The Screaming Absurdity of It All

So, we find ourselves in a doublespeak reality TV show we don’t want to watch. I think of Robert

Burns on the gift of seeing ourselves as others see us. The weak spot in the ongoing scenario is that this show is emceed by two guys incapable of doing that and who, with notoriously thin skins, “can dish it out, but can’t take it.” Remember Musk’s cage-fight challenge to Zuckerberg but then backing out and his offer to go on the Daily Show with Jon Stewart but then backing out. And in the midst of constitutional crisis, “we need a reminder of who we are up against…when you watch Elon Musk brandish a chainsaw…you can be left with only one conclusion: This is deeply, radically, uniquely uncool. Perhaps even the most uncool period of American history there’s ever been.” And “Never before have the forces of cringe wielded such power, never has their shlock been so validated, and never have more people been laughing at their [own] bad jokes.” (Luke Winkie. America Is Under Siege by a Surprising Force: Losers. Slate. March10, 2025. The forces of cringe are strangling this country.). So, comedians and lates-night hosts do great public service in ridiculing and calling out the inane and ridiculous. And who says AI doesn’t has a sense of humor? Musk’s own Grok3 AI crunched the data and says he should die, and the President is a Russian agent. (Kelsey Piper. The AI that apparently wants Elon Musk to die. X wanted Grok to tell it straight. They didn’t like the result. Vox. Feb. 28, 2025). Grok also determined the economy did better under Democrats.

Message of Hope

A French politician, berated for suggesting his country take back the Statue of Liberty (a la making Canada the 51^st state), sent a message on Musk’s X (formerly Twitter): Dear Americans, since the White House press secretary is attacking me today, I wanted to tell this: “We all in Europe love this nation to which we know we owe so much. It will rise again. You will rise again. We are counting on you.” Amen.