Day 121

Daddy died three months ago. This morning on Facebook a memory from two years ago popped up. We were out at the Cherry Place for dinner to celebrate Dad’s birthday and my son was on Dad’s back, his arms around him, hugging him. They were both smiling. 

The children’s librarian in the Mattituck-Laurel Library asked me to talk to my son about which book he’d like to dedicate in his Grandfather’s honor at the library. She said it didn’t have to be a book they had, they’d order whichever book he chose. My son initially tossed out Call of the Wild. He read it earlier in the year and had been looking forward to seeing the movie with his grandfather. I suggested he think about a Piggy and Elephant book instead. Considering the enjoyment the two of them always got reading those books together, I thought that would have more meaning, more significance. My son, who lately agrees with me about nothing, smiled at the idea. He too admitted that it was probably the most appropriate choice. He settled on Are You Ready To Play Outside? It’s the book I once recorded them reading together, a video that immortalized their enthusiasm. A video that now makes me cry every time I watch it. But if there is to be only one book to represent Dad’s joy regarding the time he spent with his grandson, that’s the book.

Last week, a friend of mine gave me a copy of Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle. I’ve never read it. But considering my interest in history and my love of the classics I figured I should acquaint myself with it. Though things have certainly changed since it was published more than one hundred years ago, the depravity of Corporate America is still evident. There may be stricter childhood labor laws and more safety laws to protect American workers. We might have a minimum wage and protections for woman against harassment. But capitalism is still destroying the people of this country. One hundred years later, America still prides itself of the bleeding of its citizen’s. America continues to bow down and pray to the golden calf, the god of cash. The economy comes first, and death is simply a byproduct of American greed. Love your money, love your own personal freedom, even if means kicking your fellow citizens in the teeth.

I’ve been reading The Week Junior with my son before bed. I wish Dad were alive. He would enjoy discussing the articles with my son. He’d enjoy listening as my son develops his own opinions on issues based on what he reads combined with his own experiences. Dad would have loved his curiosity, the questions he asks, the connections he makes. 

On the way home from the beach, we passed a house that had not one, but three Trump 2020 flags hanging out front. Two were the typical Keep America Great Flags. But the more prominent screamed, “Trump 2020 the Sequel Make Liberals Cry Again.” Dad always said it was rather red out here so I figure there have to be quite a few Trumpers, but how can anyone advertise their pride in supporting such a despot. I’ve cut ties recently with people — friends — who support him. He’s been a vile president from the start, but since his failed response to the virus he’s become even more despicable. And now he has declared war on Dr. Fauci and the CDC. How can anyone stand behind a man who refuses to listen to the scientists? And the slogan, “Make Liberals Cry Again.” There are 137,000 families crying because people they loved have died. These tears are real. I know very well because I still cry far too much. So does my mother. Every day more people are dying because Trump is acting like a toddler instead trying to flatten the curve. He won’t even wear a mask — once doesn’t count. Every time people die, more tears are shed. Holes are torn in peoples’ hearts and eyes flood with tears they can’t control. And this is what Trump supporters want. This is what they are looking forward to. This is what makes them happy. You have to ask yourself, how cruel and heartless are these people? How nasty and vicious? They have no compassion, no empathy, no kindness. No, they want more people to cry. They want more people to be in pain. This is Trump’s America and it sucks.

However, what makes me laugh in all of this is the people who spew the evils of socialism the loudest are now angry that they may need to pay for their own babysitters in the fall. Isn’t that ironic, the people who don’t want you to have universal health care feel entitled to free babysitting. We are selfish. We only want things if they benefit us. We are incapable of embracing anything that might be best for society if we don’t perceive it as being best for us individually. 

We spent the late afternoon at the Treasure Beach. Dad always used to like going to the beach around noon and staying until three or four. I find that I like going later and staying until five or five thirty. Coming home at cocktail hour without anyone to have a cocktail with is too depressing. Coming home and not having Dad start scrambling around in the kitchen to get appetizers ready makes the house feel empty. My son and I had a great deal of fun in the water today. He found an old tube and asked me to blow it up. Then at in the inlet he wanted me to hold it as he tried to dive through the center. He laughed and joked each time he missed. I smiled simply enjoying his company. But then we got home and I fell to pieces. Today was very hard. I was extremely emotional. Maybe it’s because Dad died three months ago and his birthday is in two days. Maybe it’s because I thought shrimp cocktail before dinner would be a good idea but it only reminded me of him. Maybe it’s because I couldn’t stop thinking of that stupid flag, and that while I’m still grieving Dad’s death, the madman in the white house is killing more people. 

After dinner my son and I watched the movie Prince Caspian. We sat together on the reclining chair, relatively new furniture that Dad bought because he expected to live for several more summers.