This time, the sky really is falling

Living in the Era of Trump

I gave up on blogging on Jan. 3, 2017. The first week of Donald Trump’s actual occupation of the White House was a nightmare for me. I hadn’t been that scared since 1964, when I was doing my student teaching in a junior high in Columbus, Ohio. Nothing had prepared me for that experience. It might surprise some of you that this guy who made a 33 year career out of being an education professor almost failed student teaching, but I nearly did. It was doubly puzzling for me, because I had always loved school: I did well in school, I liked most of my teachers, I had a good circle of friends, and I avoided the inevitable few assholes that I occasionally encountered along the way.

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The Dirtiest Month of My Life

Monday, 9:02 a.m., September 27, Brian, our contractor started to tear out our old (and only full) bathroom, including the shower and tub. On Friday, 8:26 p.m., October 30, I stepped out of the newly installed shower, wet, onto the bathmat lying on the newly installed Mediterranean tile—clean at last. For more than a month, Stephen and I have been washing up every day, using either the upstairs or downstairs sink. In that month, I learned a lot about making do and keeping reasonably presentable.

I thought it was going to be a nightmare. The backup plan included occasional borrowing of Annie’s shower, staying overnight a couple of times a week in the Holiday Inn, and even moving into the Residence Inn if things got too difficult. Part of what had me so worried was that Stephen was still recuperating from hip surgery and was not very mobile. And I dreamed about a house full of plaster dust and dirt, and noisy hammerings, bangings and other scary noises. I worried what if the contractor disappears, or gets sick, or is doing two jobs at once.

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And on a lighter note

My last post was an attempt to be upbeat about a very grim subject. That was Sept. 6, and on Sept. 13, Gil died. I did go right down to the water and help push the boat off. I said to him, “I’m sorry to see you go, but many people love you, and God is with you.” Gil’s right eyelid twitched and I saw just a little eye. Minutes later, Gil’s boat had pushed off to the next dimension. Later that day, I remembered how, when Gil would do something just a little more outrageous than usual, he would catch you looking at him. Then his eyes would literally twinkle—how I loved that twinkle in his eye—and he would say, “Well, I’m a Gemini, and you’re just seeing a little bit of that hidden side of me!” I think I still saw a little of that twinkle in his eye the last time we communicated on this earth.

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