Distress. in Distress

I was called out as being “unpatriotic” before I’d finished my coffee this morning. I’ll wear it. I was told I was “disrespectful.” I was compared to a flag burner. I was compared to these idiot athletes who take a knee during while the Star Spangled Banner, our National Anthem plays. So be it.

Why? Because I changed my profile picture on Facebook to the American Flag in distress. When the flag is flown upside down, it is an officially recognized symbol of dire distress and should only be flown this way in times of extreme danger to life or property.

You’ll have to excuse me. I think putting the greatest arsenal of world-killing weapons in the hands of a narcissistic, egomaniacal, thin-skinned autocrat who believes every slight must be answered in kind and one-upped is a good indicator of dire danger.

I would call him a madman if I didn’t sincerely and fully believe that he suffers from several very real and very potent mental illnesses. It is not my intention to make jokes at the expense of those who suffer from mental illness. I want to support them. For their sake and my own, I also do not want them in charge of nuclear weapons until they are able to control their moods and minds.

This isn’t about politics. Not as in, Democrat or Republican. I lived through George W. Bush’s presidency. I know, as a country, we can get through 4 or even 8 years of government dominated by a party I do not believe in anymore. I do not know if we can survive Trump though.

It is about many of the issues. It is about my unwillingness to allow the president of my country make Muslims wear gold stars…or would it be star and crescent? It’s about my unwillingness to allow a misogynist to deny women rights over their own bodies. It’s about the idiocy of a wall as an answer to illegal immigration and about punishing the children of those who broke laws so their kids could grow up in that beacon on a hill.

It’s about making sure the people of my country have the right to affordable healthcare and that the right to live through curable diseases and ailments is not the privilege of the wealthy. It’s about not bankrupting yourself, your family and your friends to get a surgery.

It’s about defending the legacy of a president who loved his country and worked hard to make it an even greater place. A president who rescued our country in the eyes of our allies and enemies a like, abroad. A man who restored an economy that was bordering on a depression. A man who insured 20 million Americans who otherwise would have been left out in the cold. A man who gave America it’s swagger back.

It’s about standing up to a bully.

So, I take on the names you call me. Say I’m a leftie. I’m not, but I’ll wear it. Tell me I’m not a patriot. I’ll own it. But know that I believe a patriot stands up to be heard in times of crisis. He speaks out against injustice. He criticizes and protests and works diligently to change hearts and minds. A patriot doesn’t respect a president just because he holds a title. He doesn’t respect a president just because he won an election.

Our country was built to fight itself. We are the sons and daughters of dissidents. We are the Rebel Alliance. We stand up to tyranny. We stand up to bullies. We protect the weak. We champion the people. We are the United States of America. My grandfathers fought in WWII. My father fought in Viet Nam. What kind of son and grandson would I be if I didn’t fight the flight my generation was given?

Once upon a time, I wrote. I wrote a blog before blogs had names. I wrote under the name Hoops. Hoops, my alter ego, stood for the things I do and he expressed them in his own unique way.

He’s existed as some pale form of what he used to be for a long time now, until eventually he just stopped blogging altogether. I haven’t written anything of consequence in years. My tongue forked no lightning. My words did not sway or move those who hung around to read.

I always knew that Hoops lived on inside of me, but I could not connect to him. I could not bring him forward. He was as insubstantial as a ghost. And writing is a painful exercise for ghost, but…

There has been an awakening.

I am not the brave Seaman or Soldier that my grandfathers were. I am not the brave Marine that my father was either. My generation was not called forward to fight in the ways theirs were. I believe that my country is under attack from within. I do not use these words lightly.

We have an unstable and dangerous man at the helm of our government and our arsenal. We have an ultra-conservative government who are not just seeking to keep others down, but to take rights away from those who have already earned them, not in the name of country, but in the name of God–who wants nothing to do with our government if I remember my Bible correctly. “Give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.”

Worst of all, we have almost half of our country ready to support the dangerous thinking of this reality television show nightmare and swamp-dwellers he’s cozied up to in order to gain his power.

My mission and I do choose to accept it, is to fight. I will fight with the only weapon I have. My voice–my words. I believe it is the duty of every patriot to stand up to the bully. He’s shown that he’s sensitive to what is said and written about him, so we say and write the things that make him cringe.

It is our duty to make his head spin. It is our duty to pester and bite like the millions of mosquitos that we are and bite and prick and the Prick until he cannot stop the bleeding. We have the platforms from which to do this–our blogs, our Facebook pages, our websites, our Twitter accounts and our Instagrams. We must be relentless. We must break him. We can. We must.

But Trump is only one man. And the man he’s chosen to be his Vice President may, actually, be even more dangerous, in his own way. Certainly, a more stable hand on the button of a nuclear arsenal, but also a more dangerous hand on the throats of women and immigrants and any who are not Christian or living to his interpretation of what is and is not acceptable in God’s eyes.

More important than anything, we must reach these people who voted for Trump. We cannot simply decide that half of our country is crazy and write them off. We have to understand them. We have to make them a part of something bigger than ourselves or themselves. We have to unite.

We need to find the words that convince–and not just Trump is dangerous. They’ll find that out soon enough. But we need to stop the next Trump and the next. We need to understand why they voted the way they did and find the common ground we need to bring them to our side. And it can’t be some one-sided thing where we expect them to simply see things our way. We need to rethink the things that are important to us and see which are really critical and important and which we can compromise on–we need to end polarization.

We have to leave our side and walk to the middle and extend our hands there in friendship and acceptance. We need to erase more lines than we draw.

It won’t always be possible. Some friends, people I’ve known a long time, will have to stop being a part of my life. Friendships will have to suffer and even die in some cases. I cannot separate who some people are from the bits of ignorance they choose to embrace. If you are racist, sexist; if you believe all Muslims are evil, if you think all Mexicans should be deported, then that’s who and what you are and you cannot be my friend anymore. I cannot be surrounded by your poison. I cannot fix your hatred. I cannot waste time howling at the moon when I can speak sense to those who are not beyond my reach.

Goodbye to those of you who qualify. To those who don’t even need to understand what Obama did to know you hated it and it was wrong and evil and bad. You are sad and broken and I cannot help you. If you have opinions that you cannot intelligently defend with more than Fox News talking points, then you are lost and I will not be the one to come find you.

A shepherd whose flock is half caught up in a flood and half still on land must save the ones he can first, even if it means watching the rest drown. Half a flock is better than no flock at all.

It is my aim and intent to embrace a new and perhaps grown up version of Hoops and part of that means being here, to write, more often. It means I must do my part in the battle for hearts and minds. The United States of America is the government of The People, for The People and by, The People. I am The People. You are The People. We–The People–in order to form a more perfect union, must fight.

We must fight and defeat Trump.

We must win the hearts and minds of The People who chose him.

The former, without the latter, is meaningless. I am Hoops. I am back. I am ready to play my part, no matter how small it’s destined to be. I am a patriot and a mosquito.

I will do my part. Will you join me?

Last updated January 21, 2017