A Long Blurt: Understanding the Trump Cult.

I admit, try as I might, I never could understand how so many are swept up in the Cult of Trump and now I finally do - I finally do, and it scares the bejesus out of me. For if it could happen here, in the microcosm that is my world, it could happen anywhere.

My building has 49 apartments with approximately 55 tenants. All of us are seniors ranging in age from 65 to 90+, independent, self-cooking, self-feeding and self-bathing and -dressing.

The building was purchased last September by a very well known charitable organization. I have donated to them in the past as they help so many disadvantaged and have a stellar reputation. As you know, I was elected Chair of the Tenants’ Committee.

So the manager of the building was fired. We are not privy to the reasons and we shouldn’t be as he is an employee of the building owners (who have at least 500 employees). It would be a breach of confidentially.

He has been allowed to stay on here in his reduced rent apartment until he finds another position. Which is more than fair.

Since his firing last week he has gone around the building summoning support for a petition requesting his re-hire as he has been treated so unfairly.

I overheard a few of his conversations with fellow tenants, he has threatened some and yelled at others and monitors the notice board in the lobby all day and night dragging tenants over and hovering over them as they sign.

I have asked the committee not to get involved in this as the full picture is unknowable at this point and our new owners would certainly have grounds to dismiss him. (I know of a few of his transgressions, learned on the grapevine).

The answers from the 66% (so far) who have signed are:

(1) He’s a wonderful kind man and it’s appalling how they are treating him

(2) They were forcing him to do jobs that wasn’t part of his agreement (they’re not)

(3)They told him he had lied on this application about being computer literate.

(4) They’re saying he went AWOL and we know that’s not true (it is)

(5) They’re saying he wasn’t out of his pajamas before noon and watched TV all day and that’s not true (it is)

And on it goes. The man should have been canonized long ago.

I have no idea how it will all go down But I did phone one of the board today to give them a heads up on the confrontation the tenants have planned. The adversarial discord in the building. The glares those who didn't sign up are getting. Some on the committee have caved under the pressure. 

I felt it only fair to warn them. As this board is truly amazing on what they are planning for here (and have secured funding for). And I just know they would never dismiss anyone without just cause. And this “saint” of a man has definitely given them many.

And it really hit me, as I mull all of this over, this is Trumpville. The truth doesn’t matter but let us hang my hat on a cause and be part of this wonderful cult.

Please.

Scrutiny

This morning, I read in my Tao meditation book (always fortuitous these readings) that problems are never solved in a small room but rather on a mountaintop looking down. Yay I say unto thee and all that.

Looking at my life from a mountain top I see the beach stones are many, the rocks overwhelming and the trees overgrown.

Whittling is a frightening thought indeed. So I look at what my needs are. Not my wants. I want far too much for a small space. Now that I'm scrutinizing and evaluating and sometimes tearing up a little, I began to bag up possibly a 100 journals of my life to date. A friend will burn them in his burn barrel. We may have a small ceremony, that would be fitting. My collection of silver and old china is another story. We can all get sentimental about old stuff, long dead relatives presenting the Waterford crystal, the country auctions of acquisition when the kids were small and fascinated with the bidding. (I had to fill a four story century home - I don't use "fill" lightly, I knew auctioneers by name and could nod briefly to show I was still in the game). Stuff that has trailed me around.

I thought the times of 12 around the dining room table at brunch are gone, ditto dinners for 8. So dishes? 4 mugs, 4 small plates, 4 large plates and 4 bowls. Notice the absence of cups and saucers, passé, my dears. Ditto for cutlery. I graduated to all matching only 4 years ago when I opened my little B&B. Before then it was quirky.

Candles, candle holders, I look down from the mountain top and say: choose 2 out of the collection of 20+ and make sure you have a place for these two, I recommend small but beautiful. You must visualize them in use and where.

I have decided I am taking this narrow in depth but tall and wide bookcase, handmade and gifted to me by a carpenter many years ago. It will fit in the hallway from the front door. There I will lodge movies I love, books I love (mainly reference)And that's it. Everything has to fit in this bookcase. Right now I've spread everything out over 4 large bookcases.

So that's it for now. I'm being firm with myself.

And yeah, life is very busy and full which I enjoy, though the mind is willing and the flesh lets me down more than I'd like. I tire very easily. This does not suit me but I do pay attention.

I'm hoping to get approval for a beautiful hiking trail in the town tonight. It's a long held dream of mine. And the spot is magnificent.

So fingers crossed.

Serendipity

One of my great good fortunes this summer was to host not one, but two community theatre directors, one from BC and the other from Ontario.

Brain picking ensued.

One of my life long dreams is to have another community theatre.

Another you say?

Well yes. I started my own community theatre in my neighbourhood when I was 8 years old. And I have a picture to prove it. Of the entire cast. I was director, writer, lead actor, props manager and stage manager. What's that you say? Ego? I didn't know better. It was all about me and I absolutely loved it. And thought at the time: I could spend my life doing this. I do have to find the photo and post it here.

So now, I'm trying to do the exact same thing in my neighbourhood here. I got brilliant suggestions from my guests and I'd absolutely love to make this a go. I tried several years back with no success as the team evaporated to other projects.

But this time? I have hope. I am invigorated. Re-vitalized with all the challenges of the past couple of years firmly behind me. A rebirth and renewal of spirit it seems.

So few years left. So much delightful stuff to do.

Life comes full circle.

This time I'll share.

Care

I was cared for through my last catastrophe. Living alone means self-care takes precedence over other-care. I've always believed that. Well, ever since I got a little more mentally healthy back in the day. Once I'm taken care of I can march around and take care of others.

But I couldn't take care of my past challenge. So the fire department of my beautiful town came and took care of me. Fire ladder planked against the house, three of them came and salted my roof and shoveled snow and ice off it. Took pictures even to show me what was happening up there. Made sure I was OK. Then took off in the big red fire truck leaving me oh so relieved. So the waterfall of ice is now gone.

And then my car got stuck in a snowbank, so badly stuck (I was rocking it back and forth which has nearly always worked, but it only ground it in deeper to the snow) so fellahs couldn't push me out. CAA came and winched poor baby on to the road and then, kindness itself, he reversed my car back up the driveway so it would be easier to "take 'er out".

Then my friend came over in his 4X4 and took me over to his house for this fabulous dinner (roast turkey, baked cheesy broccoli, stuffing to die, mounds of roast potatoes, home-made date squares and coconut cream pie). A bunch of us talked late into the night and he then drove me home.

All this transpired in a day. How feelings of hopelessness and questioning of self-coping abilities can be completely turned around by such care and attention. And the knowing of this for the future is priceless.

I passed it on today in very small measure at a farewell lunch for one of our town volunteers who's off to Florida for a while. I made my to-die carrot cake with to-die frosting and put a shrimp ring together from scratch together with my homemade cocktail sauce.

It's good to show care for others.

And it's so good to be cared for.

Lemonade in a Cold Climate

There's a story behind this sweater you see. Yes, I'm wearing it in my house today. Yes, I have layers of clothes on underneath including long-johns, thick socks, serious slippers (doncha hate those fluff bundles femmie kinds? I do).

I knitted one of these sweaters for myself well over 40 years ago and my father loved it so much for those cold nights on Sherkin that I paid attention to my mother's pleas to present it to him. Which I did and he wore it many, many times. But only on Sherkin. A man has to have his dignity out in the real mainland world.

That sweater had a "thing" about it. It felt like someone's arms around you. You could smuggle things across borders (don't ask) with it on. And it fit anyone who borrowed it. And you could use it to dry off and warm up after swimming. And nurse a baby underneath it. I missed it. But thought to get it back one day. But next thing, a few years later, bro and sis-in-law and I go off for a day's hiking and lo and behold there's my lovely sweater. On him. I remarked on it, how toasty and blankety it was and sis-in-law sez : "It's his favourite, he loves it. Your dad gave it to him." And I shut my trap.

And then, still mourning it but resigned, about 25 years ago I took to the needles and made myself a copy. Gargantuan as before. Three could fit inside it in comfort.

And I NEED to wear it now. Mr. Chimney was here and gave me a quote and ordered stove pipes and liners and brackets for my stove and I await. In this portable blankie.

And the lemonade? I can't even count the offers of spare bedrooms, meals, and a couple of fun ones: "put on a t-shirt and shorts and come for a few minutes and walk around our house in our heat."

And heaters. And concern. And phone calls checking on me.

Daughter says today: "Only that we live here and experience all this astonishing community of sharing and caring would we believe it. Hearing about it on the outside beggars disbelief."

I've never known anything like it. And I only gave you a tiny taste of what has been offered to me in this latest life challenge.

Newfoundland I love you.

And I know you love me back.

Lump In Throat Time

Before it all started.

I was a guest at a rural high school graduation last night. I had never been at such an event and perhaps won't be again. There were 26 graduates, amongst them 2 sets of twins.

Their beauty was breathtaking, both the boys and the girls - young men and young women facing their future, most already in university, some on waiting lists for colleges of their choice.

This was most definitely a community event. Apart from the grandparents and parents in attendance, all the local municipal mayors, the member of parliament and even the senator of the area was there.

I was stunned at the listing of scholarships: from the local firehalls, the legions, private citizens, townships, in memories of, etc. The school's graduating class average was in the top 10% of the province. No mean achievement.

The advantage of rural school education was made abundantly clear, the investment by the teachers in their students, often taking them in to their own homes at night to tutor and nurture. The hunting down of errant high school seniors, always located in the kindergarten room playing with the little ones. The series of projected photos of ALL of them as babies, as grade school students, in play, in study, on trips, all together from infancy.

It was joyful to see the capped and gowned students receiving their diplomas and scholarships and honours and then tossing their caps in the air before revealing their gorgeous dresses and suits.

One of the most moving moments came when two of the girls came on stage in all their finery, both sobbing but wanting to honour and talk about their mothers who had died in the past six months. Young mothers in their late thirties/early forties. Who should have had most of their lives ahead of them still. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. I can't imagine their pain.



The finale (at least for the adults) came with the Grand March, which had all the students walking slowly in single file down to an arch at the end of the hall and then pairing off, to march down and loop around again, this time in fours, and so on up to eights.



Notice how the young men's ties and handkerchiefs match the girls' dresses?

And then, oh my, lump in throat cubed, the graduates danced with their parents and grandparents.

In All My Born Days

In all my born days I've never lived in a place like this. We've got the beauty, we've got the talent, we've got the community, we've got the sense of place. We've got the love.

The love. What else do you call it?

I come home from visiting a friend who's been housebound for a week, the snow intimidates her a little. She's 86 and still drives but not so much on the snow anymore. I don't blame her. I've slowed down a lot with the driving on snow and am aware, yeah, maybe in a little over twenty years I won't be quite so brave anymore either. My visit gave her an excuse to bake and to make her famous dumplings and her famous soup. Yummy. She tells me more of her history. How she was so trusted that at fourteen when she was put out to work in the big bad city helping in a huge boarding house she had no curfew so she gave one to herself. Of ten o'clock. She felt that was right for the time. In summer. In winter it was eight o'clock. She was born old. I was born far too young and stayed that way. Good thing, bad thing? I don't think you can label it. It just is.

Anyway, I get home and when I finally reach my kitchen I stand back in awe. And yeah, tears. Lined up on the counter are:

A loaf of homemade bread.

Homemade scones

Homemade muffins

Chicken curry (a really extraordinarily odd local delicacy with no curry that I can ever ascertain in it)

Carrot relish (can't pry the recipe for this out of anyone)

A jar of bakeapple jam.

And a whole tub of thick beef, vegetable and rice soup.

Three different friends had dropped these off.

"All within a few hours of each other," said Leo, who acted as point cop with all the traffic.

"Did I die?" I asked him.

I was rewarded with him laughing till he bent over double and lost his breath.

PS And another friend dropped by also while I was gone and took this picture of my house in the snow.