Watering tomatoes this morning, I glanced up and watched Foxy watch me. We inherited Foxy, a red-heeler mix, from a woman my wife was helping through her last years of life. Foxy had had a hard life, but blossomed here. Although initially she distrusted male humans, and I worried she’d be a pain, we’ve come to love each other.
That’s a simple experience Donald Trump has never had. He seems never to have had a pet. Well, what could the pet do for him? (What he could do for a dog or cat is a question that wouldn’t occur to him.)
Later, during a break from writing, the internet played a bit of Jason Carter’s memorial speech about his grandfather, Jimmy. Loved the part about hanging zip-lock bags up to dry for re-use. My wife has us doing that, too. And the Carters being small-town folks who never forgot who they were. A cutaway showed Donald Trump, scowling, then the Bidens and others laughing at the laugh lines.
I felt sorry again for Mr. Trump. He was raised by a Father obsessed with making more money. Donald and his siblings learned to compete for money and status, not to love. Or give.
Next, the Internet showed me Robin Williams, in Good Will Hunting, released twenty-five years ago, making that great speech telling the young genius, Will, that although Will could write a book on Michelangelo, he can’t tell us how the Sistine Chapel smells, or how it feels to look up at that marvelous ceiling; and that while he’s memorized Shakespeare’s love sonnets, he has never loved enough to be vulnerable, never loved a woman “so much she can level you with a glance,” or sat in her hospital room during her last months.
Some people know those feelings. Others avoid them. I don’t envy you, Donald. I envy men who stayed married to and loving a single woman all their adult lives, raising children the best they could to be loving, caring, confident, honest folks. Men who showed a steadiness neither you nor I ever did. You touched women without permission – the sign of a man who needs to bully women, not one seeking love, or even sex. Seduction takes a gentler mode.
Sorry, Donald. We’re 79 this year. I’m sorry your life has been so limited by your fear of real feelings, real friendship, love, or the sensation of wandering alone into a new country, having no common language with the folks there, humble as a baby in their culture, but smiling while they laugh at you. You’ve never been writing and suddenly teared up because your fictional characters lost a child or learned some painful truth. Have you ever truly loved a woman, as more than a status symbol, sexual release, or appropriate decoration for a life designed to impress folks?
I’m nobody. But when I die, if I’m able to reflect, I won’t regret having so few worldly accomplishments. I’ll regret moments I chickened out, didn’t ask the hard question, didn’t provide a kindness, I could have, didn’t go deeper into the Peruvian jungle, the Tibetan mountains, or the mind of a character, or didn’t love enough.
I’m sorry your father and mother didn’t teach you love and integrity, and exemplify those. I took all that for granted, mostly rebelled, and only later appreciated – and had time to tell them I appreciated – what they gave me.
– 30 –
[This is an odd and personal column. It illustrates how, in so many quiet moments in our pleasant personal lives, Mr. Trump and the dangers he and his confederates pose to the republic can suddenly insert themselves. But it takes a more human look at him. By the way, this is a sensible discussion of Trump's psyche by a man who has written a book on the subject. See also his nice, Mary Trump’s book, Too Much and Never Enough. ]
[Posting a link on Facebook to this site, mentioning compassion for Donald Trump, and recognizing how odd that likely sounds, I felt I should add: 1 Nothing in this column excuses or justifies any of his personal or political bad conduct, though it may help explain something. 2. Compassion for Donald Trump will sound particularly weird to folks who hate him. However, would you really like to be stuck inside his head -- to BE Donald Trump, with all his inner pain that he's trying to get back at the world for? How would that FEEL?]
[ A point that deserves elaboration: as a young lawyer, I had an experience that taught me a lot. When I summered at a huge San Francisco firm, and later accepted employment there, a young lawyer was particularly prominent. Despite his relative youth, he spoke with a certain authority. The partners thought highly of him. And after I was employed there, we were acquaintances, though not particularly close. Over the course of a year or two, I formed close relationships with various young women employed there; and three different women, a Mexican-American secretary, a receptionist who was also an artist; and a woman who worked in document-processing, each told me privately that Carter [no, not his real name] had hit on them sexually in rather appalling ways. The secretary [a tough young lady who, when I once carped about her wearing nail polish, looked me sternly in the eye and said, “When I picked fruit in the fields beside my parents, it made a mess of my hands and nails, and I swore I’d get out of there, and I’ll wear nail polish whether you like it or not.”] seemed sweet and deferential, and probably Catholic, and he called her into his office to see the sunset and asked, “Don’t I deserve a kiss for that?”; the receptionist, he commented on her mammaries; and I forget how he came on to the third lady; but in each case, he was talking to a woman of lower status at the law firm and who likely seemed to him likely to be intimidated, or; in each case, he insulted her or seemed almost threatening; but none of these “advances” were designed to lead to an affair. He was a very smart fellow; I’m sure that, had he wanted to talk someone into an affair, he knew how to do it; but he was simply being pointlessly cruel and domineering. (Eventually, complaints on the subject reached the firm’s leading partners, and led them to suggest he go practice law somewhere else.) In the same way, Mr. Trump’s conduct is designed to bully, not to generate love or even satisfy lust. It’s a need he has to reassure us (and himself) that he matters.]
