Sunday's postcard, and tending to the buffet of Trumpian lies

June 11, 2023

Yellow-headed blackbird popping up from a blooming Camas bog west of Spokane

Trump, Trumpism, and the latest entrée in a buffet of lies…

I was mostly underwater, Thursday, when the news broke out about Trump’s latest indictment, this time by a federal special prosecutor.

When I popped my head out and peeled off my goggles, it was clear something was in the air. The weather had moved in from the northeast more quickly than was forecasted. There were three braids of purple, black, brownish clouds and, just moments after I reached shore, a rumble of thunder. The air was still warm and the humidity held the rich, gardenia-like aroma of mock orange blossoms in calm pockets of air along the trail up from the river. I biked back to town as quickly as I could. But within minutes the brunt of the storm arrived with buckets of rain, lightening and claps of thunder, a stream of frothy stormwater running down Monroe Street toward the falls.

Seems about right.

A part of the Trumpian illegal document stash, tucked away in a Mar-a-lago Club bathroom.

I think about Trump and the Trumpian movement more often than I write about it. It is the central menace of our time. It’s a banshee that wails night and day, complete with an ominous rusty glow. From Covid, to the national debt, to misogyny, racism, public and judicial corruption, etc., there is no communal problem I can think of that Trump and his enablers haven’t made worse. The lies and societal damage are pervasive and while resistance is a patriotic duty it’s also important to retain our humanity and sense of humor, our resolve and sense of wonder. In the face of this plague, we have friendships to nurture, children to raise, seeds of hope to distribute.

That said.

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