It's Celebrity Worship.  That explains it.

It has taken me a year of slapping my forehead, trying to understand why Donald Trump could possibly be getting so much attention, so much adulation, so many votes by such a wide variety of average Americans.  Finally, I figured it out.   An acquaintance told me that Hillary thought having Beyonce and other celebrities appearing with her would help, and all it did was disgust him (a Trump voter).  Suddenly I knew.  Why didn't I think of it before?

Knowing that name recognition is the first rule of running for office; knowing that Oprah has often been mentioned as somehow who could run for office; knowing that Jesse Ventura was once elected a governor, Trump was bound to happen.  Those of us who are appalled should have seen it coming.
Celebrities are worshipped.

Millions of people leading ordinary, boring lives want to be friends with a celebrity.  Millions wants to be one.  And apparently, millions wanted one in the White House.  Why?  Because he was entertaining.  Because he was hilarious.  Because he was vulgar, like many of us.  Because, well, he was on TV.

Appalling.

John Glenn

Sad to lose this American hero, though he had a long and so accomplished life.  Personal memories:  Attending the New Jersey Democratic State Convention in Atlantic City in September 1983, meeting and straw-polling for Candidate John Glenn for the 1984 nomination.  One of the highlights of my life. 

And of course, since everything is all about me, I left NJ and had to fly directly to Houston, where my mother was undergoing emergency heart surgery.  When I returned to NJ, appreciation for family meant so much I was ready to expand ours.  Nine months later I was waddling door to door campaigning for Gary Hart, about to deliver the biggest baby that was ever born.....

HIGH SCHOOL REUNION


Why does Donald Trump remind me of a high school reunion?

A high school reunion is a metaphor for life.  The rat race.  It represents the "before" and "after" pictures in a makeover commercial.  Of course, mostly the ones who go to reunions are the ones with a good "after" story, because the ones who take the risk and go without a good "after" are the ones people talk about for years after.  "What a loser!"  "Did you see how fat she got?" "I think that was a toupe."

So that brings me to our (gulp) President elect.  

He's like the guy that can't wait to go to is 20th reunion to show off.  He's the guy who in high school had acne; he was scrawny and no good at sports.  Never got a girl to say yes to sitting with him at lunch.  So he goes to the reunion expecting to blow their minds with his clear skin, toned body with the fake tan, laser corrected vision, expensive suit, hot date with the huge fake boobs, and the Porsche.  When he leaves the reunion he can't shake the sadness, the anger.  Because the classmates he wanted to impress are now still talking about him.  "He's still obnoxious!"  "See that Porsche he bragged about?  Purple! What a loser!" "Those boobs are fake."  "Bet she's never read a book."  "Read a book?  Bet she can't spell 'book'"!....

Trump can't get the respect he wants, no matter how many times he brags about his money.  His women.  His numbers of red hats at rallies.  His votes.  He has never been able to be accepted by the "elites" he wants so desperately to impress, and he never will.  Because underneath the loaded wallet in his back pocket is, you guessed it, an ass.

That makes him so mad it makes him, well, mad.  And his madness is spreading to some very dangerous elements.  All the rest of us can do it pray that his madness doesn't destroy our country.

I was introducing my 7th graders to the idea of writing a persuasive essay.  I gave them a graphic organizer to help them plan.  We brainstormed and they wrote on the board ideas for topics.  I tried to keep them from going down the election, abortion, racism highway (yes, even in 7th grade!) and encouraged them to pick a silly topic, like.....off the top of my head I said, "We should paint all school parking lots pink!"  They guffawed and demanded, could I possibly write a persuasive essay on such a silly topic?  I said, "Ok, challenge accepted. I will write one this weekend."

  And here it is.  I will read it to my class on Monday morning!

PERSUASIVE ESSAY

By Mary McKay

            Pink?  Hot pink?  Yes!  Every school parking lot in the United States should be painted a bright hot pink. There are good reasons for this, and here are just a few:

            As a teacher, I believe that bright colors, especially hot pink, stimulate the brain to accept new information and apply it to new situations and knowledge, sort of like sticking something to Velcro.  I have seen with my own eyes how bright colors in the classroom can do this. It seems logical to have a bright color under the car, bus and feet of students as they enter the school building.

            Dr. McStuffins of Disney University has done extensive research into the effects of colors on drivers and students.  Her findings prove that this is a very good idea and she recommends that it should be made law.  And as we know, Disney has the answer to everything.

            In addition, we can see by the popularity of Kim Kardashian, Lady Gaga, Donald Trump and other colorful characters that outrageous, bright, eye-catching statements and colors are appealing to a wide swath of Americans, especially, school age Americans.  I personally, have gotten a recent manicure of hot pink fingernails and I can tell you, it has made me feel so much better about life.

            And so, in conclusion, there is scientific evidence as well as cultural and celebrity  reasons that support my recommendation, no demand, that to improve our world and to help students learn, every school parking lot should be painted immediately.  If there is any question about what shade, I recommend you look for something like Revlon Top Speed Fast Dry Pink Lava #520.

            

GRIEF

It’s a cobra that rises and with its poison stings; a python that winds its way around your heart, and sits there, quietly for minutes, even days, then without warning it squeezes and coldly watches the suffocating pain it causes.  Grief is a massive monster that growls when it isn’t staring at you with inhuman eyes.  Enduring the loss of parents and pets and grandparents and friends is a tolerable sorrow; grieving the loss of a child is indescribable, killing you in despairing moments.  It is the most unnatural suffering.  It should never be.

PAST MUSINGS….NOT NECESSARILY PLEASANT

Nothing like stumbling on an old diary years after you have forgotten it.  I have just done exactly that, and reading my musings from 1991 give me chills.  For context:  I had just had my fourth baby and the first Gulf war was on.  Here’s an excerpt:

January 23 1991

“…I want this war to end.  I want Saddam dead so he can’t come back to haunt us when my three sons are old enough to be drafted.  I want to feel once again that I’ve brought my precious new daughter into a world that is a good place, where she can have a happy life.  I want to be rid of this feeling of dread that horrible events lie ahead….”

January 24

“…The horrible possibilities which could occur during this war are back in the forefront of my imagination.  Chemical bombs. Terrorist attacks.  Nukes.  I’m scared.  I’m definitely in a “sell everything and move to a farm in Vermont” mood these days.

January 26

“….I want my kids to believe in their own goodness, intelligence, beauty and capability so they can charge ahead in life, take on challenges and overcome obstacles.  As they grow I see many fine qualities emerging in each and I’m so proud…..Being a mother is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Now for the bad news:  My children make me so happy and I love them all so much, that I spend many moments shoving down a terrible dread that something will happen to them.  They seem so vulnerable, and the world is full of so many dangers!  Joy can become tragedy in a second’s time. My life has been so blessed in recent years:  a fine husband, money enough for a comfortable life, work opportunities I’ve enjoyed, good friends, a close relationship with my sister, 4 healthy, bright children (including a daughter after 3 sons!).  Sometimes I find myself

waiting for my luck to turn…..”

POPE ENCOUNTER

“Do I curtsy?  Bow?  Genuflect?  Kiss his ring?  Do I call him Eminence, Sir, Lordship, Your Grace?”

I was full of questions, panicking as I stood in a small room in a villa in Rome waiting to meet Pope John Paul II.   I was there as part of a group of American and Italian benefactors to a Vatican educational project at the invitation of our Italian friend Achille Cardinal Silvestrini.  This was a June day in 1995, and at that time the Cardinal was thought to be among the possible successors to John Paul.

The air conditioning in the room was weak, such as it tends to be in Italy.  I was trying to think holy Catholic thoughts while perspiring a bucket and lamenting that my dress was damp, my hair was frizzing and my makeup was evaporating in the heat. 

But then he arrived.  Dressed in white from head to toe, he didn’t look overheated.  He looked like God. As he walked slowly down the receiving line where I was standing, he took a moment to hold each person’s outstretched hands, looking directly into their eyes, as if he was saying a quick silent prayer for each one.  Then he came to me.  I don’t remember if I bowed or kissed his ring; but I introduced myself and expected him to shake my hand and move on. He paused holding my hand, and asked me where I was from.  For a moment I couldn’t remember my name or anything else.  Somehow I answered and then he moved on.

Today, only the photograph I have is a reminder of the heat in the room.  Instead I remember so clearly that moment when his eyes met mine.  I had been touched by a saint.

BIFF’S HILL VALLEY

Is it just me, or does Donald Trump’s view of the world in his speeches and in his ads look a lot like Hill Valley in Back to the Future II?  For those of you who don’t remember, this is the dark, vulgar, neon world owned and run by the not-too-bright jerk millionaire villain Biff Tannen, in which formerly nice neighborhoods are now rundown war zones, littered with trash and inhabited by violent gangs, gunfire, and fear. Trump’s descriptions and ads make America look a lot like this scary, depressing place, and his justification for voters is that they need him to restore law and order.  Cynical, manipulative, and untrue in every way.

As it turns out, my mind is not on another planet;there is actually a connection.  Recently,  the screenwriter of the movie, Bob Gale, admitted that he based this rich mogul Biff Tannen on......no joke.......Donald Trump.