The punishment of the US post-election frenzy has already been mostly blunted. How soon we synthesize catastrophe! Besides I’ve always flattered myself upon my capacity to digest even the most uncomfortable intelligence. The secret? I don’t just disregard it; I concede its truth. And when, as in this case, the matters aren’t my immediate personal concern it is naturally easier to accommodate the otherwise distressing details.
It was shortly after four o’clock this morning when I turned off the TV and went to bed, stunned by the election of Donald J. Trump as the 45th President of the United States of America.
We have the distinction of being on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina on USA Election Day, November 8, 2016. For months we have gleefully anticipated this front-row spectacle. Significantly we’re close to North Carolina and Florida – two of the foremost “early” States – where much of the sometimes skeevy political action has transpired in the past year. Although there is the traditional interest in the down-ballot vote for the composition of Congress (the bicameral federal legislature – Senate and House of Representatives), the focus of attention is upon the Presidential election. It has been a raucous and fierce battle between Mrs. Hilary R. Clinton (Democrat) and Mr. Donald J. Trump (Republican). What’s more jaw-dropping than Trump’s inflammatory rise through the Republican ranks and his obscene performance on the national stage is the horror that the American electorate may ultimately be accused of having elected him as President (and Mike Pence as his Vice-President). As vulgar as Trump is, so too is Pence commensurately preposterous (a distorted religious bigot who has gone so far as championing a funeral for the remains of any aborted fetus).
The US presidential election will be held – or, more accurately, concluded – Tuesday, November 8, 2016. Whatever the outcome it is more likely than not that nothing much will change.
I think anyone knows that Donald Trump threatens the sustainability of the Republican Party – quaintly called the “Good Old Party”.
There was a time when I practically prided myself upon my ignorance of political activity. Don’t get me wrong, I always – without exception – voted in any election, whether municipal, provincial or federal. But my lead-up interest in the outcome was token at best and it usually predominated the local municipal elections far more than the provincial or federal battles. Years ago when I began practicing law in Almonte in 1976 and assumed the office and swivel chair of the late Raymond A. Jamieson, QC, I was initiated to an admiration for American politics by Mr. Jamieson. At the time I thought it somewhat peculiar that Mr. Jamieson specifically preferred American politics but as I got to know him I learned to attribute the peculiarity to his own general eccentricity. Now – forty years later – after having spent the winter on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina and having been submerged in the unfolding fortunes of the Republican nomination caucuses, I can see precisely what I imagine Mr. Jamieson so loved about American politics.
For the past several years we have begun our winter expedition to Hilton Head Island by staying in Kingston, Ontario on the first night of our departure.
The MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) ordered by my neurologist as the last level of enquiry into the cause of my numbed lower limbs and feet was scheduled at the Queensway Carleton Hospital in Ottawa tonight at 10:50 pm. As so often happens in circumstances preceding a planned departure (we leave for Hilton Head Island tomorrow for 5½ months), this unavoidable duty was seemingly mockingly set for the latest possible hour before we got away.
This wouldn’t be the first time we’ve vowed to lose weight. The pleasures of the table are noticeably not lost on either of us. But we’ve decided things must change. The starting point was the decision to use separate shopping carts at the grocery store. This is symbolic of the divergence from the social element of eating generally. By restoring food to its narrow dimension of nutrition we have eliminated a myriad of dietary complexities and social distractions. Eating should after all be a highly personal undertaking. And if this endeavour is to work (by which I mean, if it is to be a serious enterprise) then there is no need to confound it with corporate cooking responsibilities and presentation issues. Just stick to the basics.
My sister’s current husband has succeeded to endear himself to everyone in his extended family including in particular me and my partner. In defence of such effusion I should add that we rather admire him for having endured both his wife and his two daughters for the past 30 years or more, not always a trifling enterprise. In recognition of his stoicism we offered to spring for a corporate lunch to celebrate his upcoming 62nd birthday, his choice of venue. He chose a Vietnamese place in a sparkling new commercial blip in the centre of the City, a place located not far from where he and my sister live. So we agreed upon that and submitted to the reservation which he took the liberty of making for noon today.