There is a new resident in the White House. The other shoe has dropped. This is no reality show. It’s for real.
Did you watch the inauguration? I was up until 3 in the morning. I wanted to see, to listen. I wanted to be surprised, impressed. Inspired even. Reassured at least.
What I heard was very much like a campaign tirade, with a few flourishes.
Was it election inertia that prompted the speaker or his speechwriter to paint such a dismal picture of the state of the nation?
The morning after, there were mammoth protests in D.C., New York, San Francisco and other key cities in the United States. They say at least a million women, nationwide, hit the streets and braved the cold and the rain. They made a statement, that’s for sure.
But will their passion and enthusiasm help fix the brokenness caused by this recent political exercise?
I am all for eloquent, peaceful protest. It is healthy and commendable. But to have temper tantrums like belligerent brats?
I understand there will be more marches soon. This does not bode well for the new administration.
In the wake of recent political upheavals, I hurt to see the debris of broken friendships and fragmented relationships. I know of families where brothers and sisters have not spoken to each other since November.
Definition of terms
What is an “alternative fact”? This was the term used to explain the statement about how large an audience was at Trump’s inauguration. Alternative fact, therefore, really means a barefaced lie.
But let’s not go berserk about who said what or who did the counting. Photographs don’t lie. Obviously some people have to do their jobs, even if it includes lying.
Someone on social media wrote, “To hope the new POTUS fails is like wishing the pilot of the plane we are in to crash. We can’t bail out.”
Here at home, things remain pretty much the same. On television, there is yet another Senate hearing. I am thinking this is an old comedy series.
The death penalty is still being discussed. I ask, what for? People are already getting “executed” on our streets. Life is cheap.
And then a senator says the bible allowed the death penalty, citing the sentencing of Jesus Christ.
The dark clouds of martial law still threaten. It is like living under the sword of Damocles. Those who lived through it way back then are saying, “Not again!”
On the lighter side of the news—there will be a new Miss Universe tomorrow. A few days ago, the luscious candidates visited the Palace. I hear their beauty mesmerized the President.
Pia Alonzo Wurtzbach, Miss Universe 2015, has had a memorable reign. She has made us proud.
Not too long ago, I was challenged to write something about “flirting with an ex.” I decided, why not? I asked some questions.
“The internet is neutral. I feel safe,” one 50-something lady says. “I guess it’s just the kilig factor.
Her friend is afraid: “What if I start hurting again?”
I guess it depends on how you became exes in the first place. If the break was ugly, perhaps there would be a reluctance to engage, a fear that old wounds may bleed anew.
A colleague snickers, “I would do it just to rile his new partner. I’m not really interested. But I know what buttons to push. Let’s see how she likes it. I have forgiven him but my heart has not forgotten.”
An old friend in the US replied: “My ex? We’re not friends. We’re not enemies. We’re just strangers with some memories.”
And then there’s the irrepressible Miss C. who had us all in stitches at lunch. Her ex wants her back, but she’s truly so over him.
“He’s old now and feels alone,” she says. “All he needs is a caregiver.”
Most separated spouses want to keep some kind of a connection when there are children involved. Ideally, they leave a tiny door open to allow them to at least be parents.
Not all ex-couples have burned their bridges. Many of them still harbor resentments and hurt from unresolved anger.
Others are in limbo, waiting for an apology or an explanation.
But with the years, memories turn sweet. The cause of your pain becomes the source of your joy.
The miracle, they say, is wrought by the passage of time.