Winter Cold Moon
We have entered a long tunnel, dark at its core, though there may be a faint light faraway. This tunnel is the first two years of a Trumpist America. Perhaps it has a sign, somewhere near the entrance: Chamber of Horrors, Fun House, or Hall of Mirrors. It is a Disneyland populated not with Mickey Mouse or Goofy, but the spectre of starvation, a ghoul of no medical care, a banshee of Twitter posts. No one knows what to expect on this first ride through the politics with no name, the policies with no shame.
Each time I read the paper my breath catches, a silent groan followed by a not so silent oath. “God, can you believe this?” This is a theme park in which the theme is noblesse with no oblige. It is a neo-Gilded age fantasy realm in which bankers regulate bankers, climate change deniers run the EPA, a racist is Attorney General, an enemy of public schools runs the Department of Education and generals run the Department of Defense. Were this a parody, it could not have been limned with more precision.
One temptation for third phasers is to hunker down, watch our nest eggs. Keep out of the way. As energy, that most valuable of health resources, wanes, it would be easy to say I have no leverage here, no power in a Trump dominated political realm, so why bother?
That would be a mistake. We third phasers are the group with political experience, who know how to fight asymmetric battles with powerful establishments. It was our generation’s birthright to take up that fight in the 1960’s. We may not lead, but we must support. Why? Because if not us, who? An advantage, a strong advantage we have, is most of us no longer have careers to safeguard, families to raise. We can take risks, challenge politicians with less personally at stake. That’s a powerful tool in this fight.
Our ride through this Chamber of Horrors is no longer optional. That ended on November 8th. Our boats have docked and in just nine days we have to get in and brave the darkness. I hope the person next to you is someone you love.