A Timely Speech

Pam gave me this book for Valentine’s Day. And yes, leather bound, gold leaf classic books are very sexy. This one is a collection of every important speech given by anyone in this country's history, which is why it's so thick. It starts with John Hancock's On the Boston Massacre, and ends with Barack Obama's first innaugural address. For a history geek such as myself, this thing is like finding the Holy Grail.

Anyway, I've been making my way through this thing slowly, savoring every detail. There's the combative stem winder from Patrick Henry, Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death, and believe me...the dude meant it! There's Samuel Adams' bomb throwing classic, American Independence. You read enough of these founding father Patriots and you'll be ready to gather up all your Downton Abbey DVDs and feed them through a shredder!

Then I ran into the brick wall of George Washington's Farewell Address to the People of the United States. I feel like I had read this once before back in college when I was too ignorant to appreciate it, too clever to understand. Every word is a treasure. Every warning contained in it has proved prescient, each observation wise beyond comprehension. 

The great man starts by voluntarily relinquishing power, something unheard of in the age of kings. After demonstating for us the cornerstone of republican governance, he sets about saying good-bye to the nation he loves and has faithfully served for 45 years of his life. To read his words is to be humbled that such a man as this ever existed, to read his words is to be reminded of how far we have fallen. 

After a couple of pages of genuine humility where he begs the indulgence of his listeners for his many flaws, he sets out with warnings of what he sees as potential pitfalls for the American experiment in self government. First, he warns against anyone or anything that might come against the union. Regional and sectarian interests should be sacrificed for the greater good of unity. Then he rails against the danger of parties, that despicable notion of federalist and republicans, Whigs, and whatever other factions within government that had arisen in his time. Then, out of nowhere I read this:

"This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetuated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. The disorders and miseries which result gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation on the ruins of public Liberty."

Donald Trump, call your office.

About halfway through Washington's farewell address it starts to get spooky. It's as if you have stumbled onto something written by a time traveler. It's like old George somehow was teleported from Mount Vernon into  21st century America, took a look around, then teleported back to 1796 and started wearing out about five quills, furiously scribbling out this amazing speech. How else to explain the timeliness of his warnings?

After warning his future countrymen against enemies of the Union and the pernicious influence of factions, he then ventures into the issue of the bureaucratic state:

" It is important, likewise, that the habits of thinking in a free country should inspire caution in those entrusted with its administration to confine themselves within their respective constitutional spheres, avoiding in the exercise of the powers of one department to encroach upon another. The spirit of encroachment tends to consolidate the powers of all the departments in one and thus to create a real despotism."

Yeah, no kidding!!

Concerning the place of religion and morality among a free nation Washington offers this nugget:

" Let it be simply asked, where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the oaths which are the instruments of investigation in courts of Justice? And let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religion...reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principles."

Then, our founding father begins to sound exactly like a regular old father when speaking about the subject of finances:

" As a very important source of strength and security, cherish public credit. One method of preserving it is to use it as sparingly as possible...avoiding the accumulation of debt, not only by shunning occasions of expense, but by vigorous exertions in time of peace to discharge the debts which unavoidable wars have occasioned."

Something tells me that the time traveling Washington never caught a glimpse of our debt clock, because surely the sum of 30 trillion would have literally killed him.

When he finally turns his attention to foreign policy, he begins to get quite worked up:

" Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence( I conjure you to believe me,fellow-citizens), the jealously of a free people ought to be constantly awake.

Whoa, settle down George! But, he wasn't finished. He proceeds to plead with us to avoid entangling alliances...especially with the Europeans:

" Europe has a set of primary interests, which to us have none or a very remote relation. Hence she must be engaged in frequent controversies. Hence therefore it must be unwise in us to implicate ourselves, by artificial ties, in the ordinary vicissitudes of her politics."

Vicissitudes, indeed Mr. President! Substitute Israel or any other Middle Eastern nation for "Europe" in the above paragraph and you've essential got Rand Paul's foreign policy!

George Washington was no saint. He was a slave owner, and as President sometimes failed to follow his own advice. But, he was a great man. One of the things that made him great was that rarest of traits in great public figures...genuine humility. When listening to the candidates for president speak on the campaign trail, I long to hear from anyone of them something approaching this:

" In reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors. Whatever they may be, I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils to which they may tend. I shall also carry with me the hope that my country will never cease to view them with indulgence and that, after forty-five years of my life dedicated to its service with upright zeal, the faults of incompetent abilities will be consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the mansions of rest."

A true Patriot will find it difficult to read that paragraph without a lump in the throat. God bless you, Mr. President. May we be worthy of the nation born of your tireless efforts. And may those who aspire to lead us in this day learn from the matchless example of your character.

Election Prediction

Big election tomorrow. There are lots of polls out there saying conflicting things. Nobody really knows how it’s going to turn out. But none of this uncertainty is going to stop me from offering my decidedly unscientific prediction. So…after minutes of thought with heavy reliance on my gut instincts, trick knee, and a close inspection of the tea leaves, I have been able to narrow it down to two possible outcomes, which as far as predictions go, is better than nothing.

Outcome #1

In a stunning development that sends shock waves across the American political landscape, Donald Trump wins in a landslide, winning 58% of the vote and over 300 electoral votes, buoyed by a record turnout among white men. The New York Times headline on Wednesday morning screams, Revenge of the Angry White Male. Terrified at the prospect of the first female president and convinced that their country was being overtaken by transsexual illegal immigrants, white men turn out in record numbers, baffling pollsters and pundits alike. The Atlantic magazine publishes a story calling it The White Wave, while Time Magazine dubs the Angry White Male Person of the Year. 

Outcome #2

Despite being behind most of the night, Kamala Harris wins a narrow victory when a tide of Democratic votes come in after midnight, giving her 52% of the popular vote and a narrow electoral college victory. Donald Trump immediately declares the election rigged and demands that every election worker in states that he lost be arrested. Americans wake up on Wednesday morning to riots in most major cities, declarations of war from militia groups across the country, and the news that Donald Trump has set up a Government in Exile in Mar-a-Lago.

Although most of this blogpost is very much tongue-in-cheek, the fact that both of these outcomes seem totally believable to me—makes this post perhaps this most scandalous thing I’ve ever written.

No

We’re almost done with October. The days are getting shorter and after this weekend darkness will fall earlier, a sign of the approach of winter. My retirement looms, less than 60 days away. The closer it gets the greater the weight of expectation. What will it feel like? Adding to this growing sense of tension is next week’s Election Day. There was a time when the only question that accompanied this day was the identity of the winner. Those days are long gone. Now the larger question is—will the loser throw a petulant fit and call on half the country to deny the results? Will the loser accuse the winner of fraud and throw the country into the type of post-election chaos usually associated with banana republics? Your guess is as good as mine.

I recently received some blowback from my son on my decision to not cast a Presidential ballot. I always take his criticisms seriously because my boy is smart and often makes compelling points. Plus, this particular disagreement was done politely and with respect. He sent me a video clip of the latest example of Trump saying some outrageous thing on the Joe Rogan Podcast with the statement, “I’d like to think that this statement would be enough to persuade any libertarian-minded person to not sit on the sidelines, but to actively vote against this person.” I then pressed play and listened. It was Trump positively glowing with admiration for China’s Communist dictator and his “brilliance” for being able to rule over a billion people with such an iron fist. I agreed that it was outrageous, but no more outrageous than a dozen other inanities that have flown out of his mouth during this interminable campaign. What my son’s issue  is was this notion of why and how we vote—what exactly is our responsibility as citizens?

In America we have a two party system. Our choices on Election Day are confined to a Democrat and a Republican. Yes, there are occasionally other candidates on the ballot—Green Party, the Libertarians, but they are largely for decoration and have no impact on the outcome. So, what happens if you look at the two choices and think that neither should be allowed within a country mile of the Oval Office? Most people will say, “Well, you have to vote for the lesser of two evils, the one who will do the less harm.” The one issue voters out there essentially believe that as long as a candidate is sufficiently pro-life or Anti-gun or whatever their big issue is, they would vote for the devil himself. Still others will cast their vote because they are loyal party people…I’d vote for a rabid dog as long as he’a a democrat!

I take a different view. My personal opinion is that only one of the candidates in this race is dangerously unstable—Donald Trump. He has run for President three times now and I am proud of the fact that he has never once received my vote. However, voting for his opponent would mean I would be voting for someone with absolutely no qualifications to be President…of anything. This is a woman who a short four months ago was considered a drag on the Democratic ticket, a lightweight and accomplishment-free Vice-President who was an almost daily disappointment to Democrats every time she opened her mouth to speak. Then—suddenly—the day that Joe Biden pulled out of the race, the national media did the quickest and most dizzying about face in the history of politics. All of a sudden Kamala Harris became the reincarnation of Queen Elizabeth I. She was morphed over night from a cackling, word-salad spewing embarrassment into the Candidate of Joy. The non-stop fawning coverage felt Manchurian to this observer. While Donald Trump might be the candidate of the enraged right, Kamala Harris will owe her life to whatever group of party elites anointed her—an honest to God puppet of the Democratic Party ruling class— the same people who have ushered in so much of the current level of social issue foolishness plaguing the nation. Voting for her might be a repudiation of Trump, but it would also be a tacit acceptance of her and the process that produced her. 

When I enter a voting booth I am presented with often uninspired choices. This time I will be asked for my vote in several different races, President, Congress, Senate etc…In the past I have cast some votes with great conviction, convinced I was making a wise and informed choice. Other times I have held my nose and voted for the lesser disaster. No more. By voting for neither of the Presidential candidates I am exercising my right to vote No. NO. I refuse to accept that a nation of nearly 300 million people, a nation of such great goodness and accomplishment could possibly present us with so ridiculous a choice. It is simply unacceptable. I refuse to validate this state of affairs with anything other than a resounding…no.

Who to Vote For?

Yesterday morning I had just gotten back from a fast 5 mile walk and was trying to stretch out my sore back when I heard the doorbell ring. I was upstairs so I gazed down through the Palladian window at the top of the stairs and saw the earnest young woman loaded down with brochures. Lucy was doing her best to warn me of the grave, existential danger I was in because of this stranger’s presence on my front steps. I knew that there was no danger…just a pending awkward encounter with an eager political volunteer. Whenever this happens in the days leading up to an election I confront a mixed bag of emotions, parts annoyance and admiration. I quickly walked down the stairs and opened the door.

“Hello there,” my perky volunteer smiled. “May I speak with Kaitlin Dunnevant?”

It was at this point when my reply instantly formed in my head and forced its way through my lips without pausing, like some sort of hereditary involuntary impulse…

“You just missed her. She moved out 12 years ago!”

The perky volunteer blushed briefly while searching through her oversized cell phone to check, but recovered nicely with, “Well sir, are you planning to vote in the upcoming election?”

This was a question fraught with peril, since I had no interest in entering into a political debate with a total stranger, but I answered as honestly as I could.

“I won’t be voting for either Presidential candidate, but I will vote for a few of the other races, I suppose.”

“Excellent,” she pivoted, “I am here to urge you to consider voting for Leslie Mehta for Congress.” This was a name I had never encountered until this moment, an indictment of either my poor citizenship or this candidate’s ineffective campaign.

She then handed me a small flyer and added the reason that I should do so—“She is a smart, reasonable woman who cares about improving the lives of her constituents.” There was no mention of her opponent, no listing of credentials or qualifications that Ms. Mehta brings to the table, no word about her race, or marital status. Just the decidedly boring…reasonable modifier. Then she thanked me for speaking with her and as she started down the steps turned back toward me and said—“I’m sorry to hear about your Presidential vote but honestly, I completely understand. I’ve heard that from so many other people. It’s really sad, isn’t it?” There was no attempt to change my mind, no follow up question to dig deeper into my reasoning. Just a knowing acknowledgment of the truth.

I will explain the reasoning of my “No Vote” in an upcoming blogpost next week. But for now my reply to the volunteer was, “Yes…it is sad.”

Trying to Write a Letter

One of my tasks for this week is to write my official retirement communication, to be sent out to every client. It’s essentially my last letter to the three hundred or so people who I have served for the past 42 years. As someone who has written hundreds of letters, nearly 3000 blog posts, twenty-six short stories, and am about to wrap up my fifth novel, you would think that one more letter would be a cinch. But I have set down to write it several times over the past two weeks and have come up with…nothing.

As my last day approaches I am having no second thoughts. I am making the right decision at the right time. But there is a finality looming and that is the thing  that brings all the feels. Do anything in life for 42 years, you develop a fondness for its routines and rhythms. It’s 8:35 on a Tuesday morning—you know where you’re supposed to be—pouring yourself a cup of coffee and teasing Kristin Reihl about something. You will miss the little things. You will miss that client who always calls complaining that I haven’t updated the away message on my phone. You will miss getting harassed by the client who whenever I don’t answer right away takes delight in accusing me of being on the golf course—even when it’s snowing outside. You will miss a great many small things.

My Latest Obsession

It is an extraordinarily inconvenient thing to write a book. Inspiration comes when it will, morning noon and night. When you should be focused on any number of other more pressing concerns all you can think about is the latest plot point that keeps dancing around in your head. If you’re wondering why my blogposts have been fewer and farther between lately, this is the reason. This latest flurry of inspiration began almost as soon as I arrived in Maine in mid-September and hasn’t stopped since.

I began writing this one in May of 2023. The first 12 chapters or so flowed quickly but then, as is often the case with me, the story went cold for a couple months. I wrote some more during the Spring of this year before another cold period. Although being in Maine is great on many levels, I’ve never done a ton of writing while I’m there. This fall was different. At Loon Landing there’s a loft room with a spectacular view of the lake and the most comfortable chair in the house. I would climb up there on the ladder and sit in the chair and almost immediately the words would come. They have continued to come ever since.

The story centers around a young man whose life is turned upside down by a massive inheritance from his wealthy and eccentric uncle who he hardly even knows. As the story unfolds we see how the sudden and unexpected fortune changes his life and his relationships. Hint: It’s not good! The more he learns about his Uncle the worse it gets. Eventually he begins to question everything he thought he knew about his life. The rest of the story is essentially a voyage of personal discovery that takes him to Wyoming, the Cayman Islands and eventually back home to the mountains of Smyth County, Virginia….or not, I haven’t finished it yet so I’m not entirely sure how it will end.

So that’s what I’ve been up to lately. The story has been living rent-free in my head for over a year now. I have included the first paragraph of the story below for your consideration:

Stanley Randle Clyde had been on his death bed for seven months, as obstinate and unpredictable in death as he had been in life. It had started as a stubborn cough, turned into pneumonia, then morphed into a months long bout with dysentery. A lesser man might have succumbed to the pneumonia, but Clyde was no lesser man. Despite raging diarrhea and dehydration, the man had never lost his mental acuity. Up until the very end he had been able to communicate his various instructions to the nurses unlucky enough to have tended him with amazing specificity, regularly requesting particular brands of Irish whiskey to help settle his stomach. He recognized every face that had visited him during his interminable passing, being especially careful to insult each of them by bringing up their most embarrassing failure. And still they came, an unending stream of family members, to pay their respects to the great shrinking giant, hoping against hope to make one last favorable impression. This level of respect and devotion towards the dying is always reserved for one of two sorts of people—the beloved or the ridiculously wealthy. Stanley Randle Clyde was not beloved.

The Greatest Commandment

Woke up to a 39 degree morning on the lake on this our last full packing-free day in Maine for 2024. It has been a wonderful ten weeks, six over the summer and now these four in the fall. I cannot possibly express how grateful I am for the privilege I have to do this every year. Like nothing else, it restores my soul.

But as our time here draws to a close all of the troubles of the world that I have blocked out of my mind resurface— the devastation and suffering in North Carolina, the impending storm about to ravage central Florida, and the ongoing dysfunction and disinformation rampant in our politics. There are times up here where I can’t help feeling a bit guilty for my good fortune. When I consider the combination of comfort and contentment on display in this picture, it stands in sharp contrast to the catastrophic loss and suffering of so many.

But I have to remind myself that life is not a zero sum game. There isn’t a finite amount of sorrow or joy in the world where if I am joyful it means that there is less joy for others. It is quite possible to marvel at the beauty of a sunset while somewhere else in the world there are people looking at that same sun setting while hungry and besieged. The trick is retaining the empathy that allows you to look beyond your own blessings, to see the suffering of others and be moved to action. I have a cousin who has done just that. She’s a nurse who couldn’t bring herself to sit around reading about her brothers and sisters in western North Carolina without doing something. So, now she’s in the midst of the battle at an adhoc triage station somewhere in the mountains distributing supplies with a half dozen others nurses from all over the place. She and I don’t always agree on politics. We both have Dixon blood coursing through our veins, making us both impossibly opinionated. But Jennifer is by her actions putting into practice our Lord’s command to care for the least of these. When they asked Jesus which was the greatest of the Commandments his answer was beautiful in its simplicity…Love the Lord your God with all your heart soul and mind…and your neighbor as yourself. Beautiful words, for sure, but devilishly hard to put into practice.

When I get back to Short Pump there will be a lot on my plate. I have less than three months left in my business life, my forty-two year career is coming to a close. But no matter how hectic things get, I will have to find a way to contribute something to the ongoing effort to rebuild the lives torn apart by the storms. My church has already organized relief efforts. That’s where I will start.