Dear President Trump,
It’s been raining here in Seattle nearly constantly for weeks. It just keeps coming. Obviously we are used to rain and dealing with the wet hassle of it here in Western Washington, but the temptation to just hole up inside is enormous. At least for those of us who have dry, safe homes.
Weather is really something we can’t do anything about, no matter how fervently we might want to or how skillful we are. It just happens and we have to find ways to adapt and cope. If we don’t, we run the risk of staying frustrated and angry over something we can’t control.
Politics and the health of the nation feel like the weather, like we’re standing in unrelenting pelting rain and sleet watching tidal waves swamp levees and damns we built to protect those in low lying areas. Actually, I think that we need to pull Zeus in here to get the analogy working better since the weather has no agency and isn’t out to get anyone or to protect anyone’s interests.
I certainly don’t want to elevate you and your administration to the level of a god-like Zeus, but your capricious, insolent, and self-serving behavior bears a marked resemblance to his. He had quite the tendency to punish those who displeased him. Weak, but stubborn, humans were a particular target. He was the god who brought grave misfortunes by giving Pandora a lovely looking box, that if opened would set loose a host of scourges; disease, famine, warfare. Sickeningly uncanny similarities to so much of what you and your administration have been setting in place.
At the bottom of Pandora’s box was hope. Some say hope is worst of all because it keeps people yoked to impossible situations. Some say without hope there’s nothing. Some say that when the box was opened and misfortunes made their way across the lands, hope flew away too. Hope is feeling like it’s on life support these days. There’s so much mean-spirited, short-sighted crap raining down, that hope can seem crazy. Maybe it is. Maybe you all are going to wreck everything so badly before you retire to your mansions in the clouds that there will be nothing left for us to piece together, but I’m going to try and keep hope alive, nurse her back to health.
In this spirit of resolute hope and love of life,
May you be safe.
May you be happy.
May you be healthy.
May your life unfold and intersect peacefully.