This Sure Isn't Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood

Systems down, and I don't know what to do.

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.com

Well, I felt hopeful last week.

Today not so much. Once in a while, my life seems a metaphor for what’s happening in society. Today is such a day.

If you’ve ever experienced the hell of broken email (I don’t know what else to call it, my damned email suddenly doesn’t work on my laptop) I don’t have to explain the depth of my despair.

My friend Puma wrote a piece last week titled Broken Shoelaces, and this is indeed a broken shoelace. It’s a small problem. Nobody died, nobody got sick or hurt.

Broken email doesn’t feel like a broken shoelace, though. It feels like the proverbial straw that will send me to the psych ward.

I work with a system in place. The system is down.

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Yesterday I received an unexpected and unwelcome visitor. It was a recurring thought, almost a mantra. It goes like this:

I don’t know what to do.

I say this to myself, and stare at the walls. I try to think of something. I get up and move, hoping action will jar my thinking.

Nothing.

With the distance of 24 hours, I can see the phrase I don’t know what to do coincides with the Senate choosing to pass that wretched bill. It’s not a coincidence. We are closer and closer to ruin, and…

I don’t know what to do.

This is a rare occurrence, because I am a bossy know-it-all who would happily fix the entire system if you’d just let me get in there with my tool belt.

But the air is leaving my body as I realize the enormity of what’s happened to our nation. This bill (which as of publication has not passed the House, where it returned like a bad penny) seems like a death knell. It feels irreversible.

Even if Democrats win back Congress, are we going to be able to undo all the damage this administration has done? I don’t know. He’s only been at it six months.

I don’t know what to write, either. I have the beginnings of four essays. I can’t get behind a single one of them.

Because now what? How do we function in a society that’s a runaway car with no brakes?

I’ve lived within a system for the entirety of my life, and it was called America.

I’m still here, but the system is gone.

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When I was a kid, I loved watching Mr. Rogers. My favorite part of the show was when he’d walk in the door.

He’d trade his jacket for a sweater. The sweater was always in the neat, uncrowded closet.

He changed his shoes from outdoor to indoor. His shoes were always in the same place.

He said,

“Hi neighbor!” in his friendly way.

He let me know he appreciated me. We were about to discover something together, because we were neighbors. We lived in the same world.

At the end of the show, he changed shoes again, got his jacket, and went out the door. I was always sad to see him go.

But I knew he’d return. Here’s what I know about Mr. Rogers:

1) He showed up on time.

2) He had a system.

3) He was friendly.

4) We were neighbors.

5) He treated me like I mattered.

Mr. Rogers was reliable.

I remember reading long ago that Fred Rogers knew kids need routine and structure. It makes them feel safe.

As a former child with no routine, it’s no mystery why I loved him, why I felt so safe watching him change his shoes.

This morning I realized it wasn’t just kids who need a routine. Adults need one too. We need a system in which to feel safe.

America’s system is gone.

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No, really. Gone.

Checks and balances are gone. Congress is a joke. The Supreme Court has given Trump a pass to commit criminal acts in office with no consequences. The Constitution is utilized only if it helps Trump get his way, so the rule of law—our system—is destroyed.

Republicans in Washington aren’t a political party, they’re organized crime supporting an authoritarian regime.

Democrats are a disorganized political party fighting this gang. I’ve never seen a more ineffectual response to an emergency.

I grew up in a nation that had, however flawed, a system designed for fairness. Our scales of justice try to balance.

Granted, it was much fairer to white people than Black, and more so to men than women.

But I could at least point out inequity and say,

“Hey! This is happening outside our system! I call foul!”

I’m shouting into the wind.

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I expected certain American people and organizations to care more about what happens to the nation. They do not.

Media outlets, business leaders, universities, Justices, law firms, Senators and members of Congress have all folded their hands and let Trump bully his way into every aspect of American life.

We can forget any sense of fairness, because Trump decides everything. People have just laid down and invited him to tramp all over them, hoping they won’t be the ones to bear the brunt of his considerable weight.

Hey neighbors. I’m disgusted.

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Yesterday, a bill was passed by the United States Senate that actually takes food out of the mouths of babes to line the pockets of the likes of Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos.

My friend Linda Tolbert is as smart as a whip, and she posted something on social media about the Bezos wedding which I think is critical:

I have nothing against rich people. I don't care if they have big lavish celebrations of their love. I think love deserves nothing less if you can afford it. I'm happy they are happy. My problem is the people we elect who are supposed to protect humanity from unchecked greed. They are the ones letting the side down. Under both parties the people have been shafted. Everyone focuses on the 1%, but I focus on the politicians on both sides who should be privately working for the rich, not in government pretending to give a damn about everyone else. They are only in government because that's where they can work for the rich more effectively while making sure their assets are protected.

It’s such a profound comment on both our society and government.

Americans would much rather sit on their couches and bitch about Bezos and his new wife Lauren than get involved in politics and hold their elected officials to account.

If everyone who complained about Bezos took the time to call their Senators and ask why they were making him richer, who knows?

Maybe the bill wouldn’t pass.

And also to her point: both parties line their pockets with corporate dollars. It’s a fact.

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If you think we still have a system, consider this.

Republicans actually deployed bad math to try and convince their constituents that the bill would not raise the deficit by five trillion dollars—and it just might.

That’s $5,000,000,000,000.00

Then in a case not of,

If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.

But instead,

If it’s not good enough for us, we won’t take it…but you have to!

Senator Lisa Murkowski somehow got the bill manipulated in such a way that her constituents in Alaska have it a bit easier than the rest of us.

Then she voted for it.

JD Vance broke the tie on a bill Senator Murkowski despised.

No, there’s no sense of fairness in politics anymore. Instead, you’ve got a bunch of Senators waiting to get paid off by the people they’re protecting financially.

It’s not us.

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I am terrified by what this bill means. I am terrified no one is willing to stand up to a criminal president.

I’ve called my Representative and been chided for picking on Democrats when Republicans are the problem.

Republicans are the problem, as are Democrats who aren’t working night and day to fight what’s going on. As a friend pointed out, they should be running the most expensive ads the DNC can buy and blasting them on every news show in the nation.

I’ve been calling Chuck Schumer and Kirsten Gillibrand for months, begging them to lead a nationwide general strike. I’ve told them and Congressman George Latimer that we need to see real leadership from the Democratic Party, a united front, standing up to this authoritarian regime.

Crickets.

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Here’s what happens when a system goes down.

This morning, out of nowhere and for no apparent reason, I received one of those pop ups with a message I didn’t understand from my email.

But I do know how to follow directions. I followed the directions.

The mysterious and predictable outcome is that there is one elusive step missing, so the problem remains. I can’t find the place to change my email forwarding address, and I’ve spent the last hour trying to fix it.

I do not have an hour to try and fix my email. Do you?

Now. Rational me knows all I have to do is use up half my day making an appointment, then standing in line at the Apple store. There, some child will say,

“Oh.”

Then hit a button and fix it.

They will gaze at me with a blank stare. I will say thank you.

That’s the worst that can happen when my email is down.

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Irrational me has other ideas.

I want to pack a small bag, grab my passport, and take a car to Kennedy airport. I want to run away from home, preferably somewhere across the Atlantic.

I’ll ditch my iPhone, buy a flip phone, and let Secret Service know where I am. He might be tempted to join me.

When systems are down, I want to go somewhere safe.

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Just when I was about to throw in the towel—and six hours in—I fixed my email.

I got one system working again. Happy July 4^th.

This year it seems like a day of mourning. I don’t know where I live anymore, and I’m still here.