Rocking the Donald Trump Blues

"We are numb with despair," wrote our friend Amy from Foxborough, Massachusetts as Donald Trump, the next President of the United States, walked onto the stage to make his victory speech.
Numb seems to be the safest way to be on this "end-of-the-world -as-we-know-it," day.
Despair doesn't seem like a crazy or big enough word to describe how it feels.

A reality TV show host has just become ruler of the Western World - actual reality doesn't get more bizarre than that.

"I kept thinking that I should turn off Comedy Central and watch the real news this morning," said one of my friends, " and then I remembered.....this is the real news.".. 

" Can we close for the day?" I ask my boss when I get to work. " We could declare a day of mourning. We need to mourn the loss of sanity and the loss of all that might have been good in the world."
He stops humming REM's " It's the End of the World," and laughs, the kind of empty laugh that hides the numbness of despair.
I think that might be the only kind of laughter there is now.

"You have to laugh mum," says Mia, our 19 year old daughter, " there's nothing else left to do."
And she's probably right.
What other weapon do we have. 
But it's hard.
Hard to find something to laugh about when the path to the White House is paved with  bigotry and racism.
Hard  to find something to laugh about when our fragile future is held in the brutish hands of an overt disdainer of women, of the vulnerable and of any minority you can think of.
Hard to find something to laugh about when a man with limited world vision and little interest in politics is about to become the political leader of the Western hemisphere.

But who needs knowledge, open-mindedness, political awareness or a capacity to care when you can be a vote-gaining, crowd-pleasing, billionaire president without any of those attributes?.
It would be nice to believe that those who voted for Trump were hood-winked, confused, mis-led.
But I don't think they were.
Like the Brexiteers, his message was clear, his surreal promises definite and his words uncompromising in a world full of confusion and uncertainty.
To some the confidence that comes with such black and white inflexibility is comforting.
A vote for Trump, like a vote to leave Europe, was an indisputable, anti-establishment, nationalistic vote.
A vote for something concrete.
A vote for a change so definite that it is almost tangible.
What is most frightening is not the fact that that voters jumped on the Trump band-wagon but that he jumped on theirs.
He played the popularity game and won. 
He chose to  surf the wave of discontent and  protest that seems to be sweeping across Europe and America at the moment.
And in true showman style, he rode the wave all the way to the White House. 
But washed up on that politically powerful shore, he will have no more crowd swell to support him.
From January 20th 2017, the buck will stop with him - and so far he has been much better at passing than carrying the buck.

It's hard to laugh on a day as sad as this.
It feels like an end not a beginning.
Obama arrived at the White House wrapped in his cloak of audacious hope. 
He never stopped fighting for what he believed to be right and good,  I don't believe he  ever will,
Trump will arrive at the White House wearing an expensively tailored suit of discontent,ignorance and hatred..
But hope cannot be cast off so easily.
Even though Trump will be living in the White House with his strange hair-do and oh-so-white teeth, Hilary Clinton is still going to win the popular vote.
That means that more people in America actually voted for Hilary than Donald.
We must not forget that.
Some of the problem lies with the system not the nation.

While he was in power, Obama was thwarted at every turn 
He was constantly forced to compromise, his hands tied by a party that refused to work with him, his voice muffled by the loud, demanding and intransigent majority of Republicans in the House of Representatives. 
That impossible-to-win battle is over now.
And sometimes it's easier to shout louder when you are in opposition, easier to take a strong position when you have nothing left to lose, easier to unite when you have a shared vision to fight for.
There's no more need to compromise, only to show clearly and courageously what we believe in.

Hope has been crushed not destroyed.
Hope has survived worse.
Hope has pulled people from the depth of much deeper and darker despair.
We are out of time for now, not forever.
Voices have been muted not silenced.
Apparently it was Burke in the 18th century who said:
"In order for evil to triumph, good men (and women) must do nothing." 
The world is full of good men and good women ready to stand up for what they believe in, we just need to find each other.

It might be Trump, not Obama, who is "all fired up and ready to go," for now.
But there are enough of us to put out the flames.
And perhaps it's true.
Perhaps we do have to laugh.
If nothing else, it will remind us of all that is still good and great in the world. 
Perhaps laughter is the only way to ease the numbness of despair.
And if a reality TV show host is truly going to rule the world, then it's time for those of us who do not see the world through through the detachment of a camera lens, to truly rock the future.

Conquering fear with love and cling film

Spring has almost arrived in South East England.
On the trees the buds of blossom are about to burst.
On the ground, wild hyacinths are beginning sprinkle the undergrowth with purple spears.
And up above, the skies are trying to turn a deeper shade of blue.
The world is about to be filled with colour and sunshine and nesting birds.
The evenings are about to become long and warmer and filled with laughter.
Spring is eternally, fear defyingly hopeful.
And if ever there was a time when we needed an infusion of hope, it's now.
Sometimes if feels that there is no way out of the misery and fear that is  engulfing our world.
Each day brings new stories of austerity cuts that seem to make the rich richer and the poor poorer.
Every piece of news is full of the tragic stories of refugees and migrants who didn't make it, of children's bodies being washed up on beaches, of small countries that can no longer cope with carrying the burden of other people's dreams.
And every morning we wake wondering if today will be the day the terrorists strike again, innocent people killed in a frenzy of someone else's religious fervour.
Sometimes the enormity of all that is wrong with the world can take your breath away.
Sometimes the sense of anger and injustice can be suffocatingly overwhelming.
But we cannot give up on hope.
Hope is the life-jacket that keeps us afloat amidst the debris and destructive detritus of war and politics and religious extremism. 

Sometimes it comes as a surprise that most of the time, with all these terrible things happening we live our normal lives.
Usually I spend more time worrying about whether to hang the washing inside or outside than what essential service the government will cut next.
Mostly I am more pre-occupied with what to cook for dinner than whether the next boatload of refugees and migrants  have made it safely to shore.
And generally I am more anxious about preparing my lectures, making sure the kids have eaten breakfast or remembering if I locked the back door, than wondering where the next suicide bomber will wreak their tragic havoc.
But perhaps that's just how we protect ourselves.
If we worry enough about the little things that we can do something about, then we don't have to think about the bigger things that we feel powerless to change.
" Why do you still make the kids packed lunches every day?" my husband asks, "they should make their own."
And he's right of course.  
At 16 and 18 they should be making their own lunches.
But knowing that I have done that one little thing every day to  help them, makes me feel better, wraps me in hope.
It's with such tiny acts of love that we will conquer fear.
It's by valuing all that is mundane in our daily lives that we can defy terrorism.
" Whatever you do," we are saying, " we will carry on living our lives. 
We will not stop loving  because you want us to hate.
We will not stop building bridges  because you want us to build barbed wire fences.
We will not stop hoping because you want us to fear.
We will not let our lives be consumed by all that is wrong in the world but will carry on celebrating all that is right.
And  so, for as long as they need me to, I will wrap my kids sandwiches in cling film and love - even if the fillings are very boring!

Because here's the thing.
The government might cut all our essential services until there is nothing left.
The refugees might keep arriving, searching for the life they deserve to live 
The terrorist might keep plotting to cause death and destruction.
But nothing, not politicians or wars or terrorism, can stop spring from arriving.
And this year, the blossom on our peach tree is going to be the fiercely vibrant, most deeply beautiful  pink it has ever been.