Where/What/When/Who Comes Next?

Blue in a Red State

We are in such a state of PTSD we don’t see what or who is around us. We’re living in a post traumatic/present traumatic stress disorder that we don’t know up from down or hazel from grey. We’re trapped in the news bubble - even here on Substack. The news, the commentary, the warnings, the calls for calm and the calls for change coalesce around Trump. Sometimes J.D. Vance and RFK, Jr. float in. But there is more in this crazy country of ours. There’s more in this crazy world of ours.

The United States government and country are not perfect. We’ve come a long way from owning people. We still treat each other with certain callousness. But we’ve made this a slightly more perfect union. Maybe it’s time to start asking questions and then listen to the answers.

Where are we headed? Who the hell knows?

Are we going toward a reaffirmation of what we thought we were before Trump showed a lot about us as a nation? Are we wanting to mend the divide? Do we want a reconciliation between the factions and fractures? Are we going to forgive ourselves or are we going to condemn and not trust for years to come?

We’ve been in a civil war for decades. The first civil war was our war for independence. There were pro-British and pro-American families and friends split by that war. We call it a revolution but we don’t see it for the bits and pieces. We think we fought the British. And we did. But we also fought other colonists who wanted to stay with the British monarch. That civil war lead us to a “me first” attitude.

The second civil war did split the country in half. North and South. History has been written and re-written about those years and the ones after. Much of that re-writing was used to justify the split. More recently, the re-writing has been to show the generals of the Confederacy were not heroes but had chosen another ideology rather than the federal concept. The Confederate States supported slavery and white supremacy. They called it states’ rights. And our history continued that song.

We never got out of that war - even with the integration of the rebel states back into the union. The split stayed. It was based on color and ethnicity- black, brown, Asian. Sunday School classes would sing “Jesus loves the little children” without seeing or understanding that Sunday mornings were the most segregated hours all across the country. We closed our eyes. We lived in a world of hope and thought we would someday be among the stars in federation star ships. But we haven’t. The reality is we have been in combat with ourselves and other countries since our inception.

I’ve asked my students what they think about the government. Some say they don’t know because they don’t listen to news or talk politics. Others say they don’t trust the government. That it is corrupt and is only for the wealthy. Most are registered independent or not registered to vote at all. The upside down world in which we all live has destroyed our ability to know and understand.

Leftist. Right wing. Radical. Terrorist. Communist. Traitor. Destroyer.

Those words and others like them replace what we thought we were and what we could become.

But who will help? Who will find pathways out of this debacle? Not anyone at the top level of any of the political parties or think tanks. I tell my students they are the ones who have inherited our broken government and it is up to them to find the ways to mend it - even if that means in a different form.

We are in the jigsaw puzzle of our lives. There is no picture to go by. The edge pieces are not squared off but softer and more rounded. Our political PTSD keeps us from seeing any shape that can merge with another shape. We don’t trust each other and we don’t trust ourselves. We see a schizophrenic reality. But because we are inside that reality, we don’t recognize it. We think we are the sane ones. I don’t know. Maybe we are.

The who-will-help will be considerably younger than the current president and members of Congress.

I’m rambling, saying the same thing over and over. And I’m scared.

I’m 75 and not in the best physical condition. But I keep trying, keep pushing. I’m that age group - the baby boomers - who thought we had all the answers because we had all the dreams. We didn’t realize some of those dreams were nightmares to other people. From our perspectives, probably, we still see education - quality and accuracy - as the way toward enlightenment and stability. But we don’t know what is going on with people younger than us or with a different skin color or a different religion. The present PTSD society in which we live provides no help.

My students, when asked what could help, said “community.” They want to have conversations. They want to hang out. Some said hang out at a pub. Others said hang out at a park. I asked them why they didn’t do that. No one answered. I think it’s because we stopped. Without some example, we don’t know how to hang with a community. And if we don’t know, can this generation create it from whole cloth? Or will it take piece by piece?

I’ve moved from my angry PTSD angst to wanting leaders who listen, who help, who consult with constituents. I want people who see other people as people. I don’t want a single leader. That scares me. That’s too much like Trump and his minions. I want to see people elected to federal Congress, state legislatures, city councils, and school boards who freaking listen. I want to see the government work as a community with more discussions. What is good for the country does not depend on who is in charge. It depends on what is good.

But, I’m uncertain if such people exist or if I will live long enough to see some reconciliation between all those who have been hurt by our white washing of history or the outright lies told so often.

Take care of each other.