Life

A True Friend

When we were in high school, my friend, Danny, went home from school one day to find that his mother had moved. The rental house they lived in was empty, she was gone, and he was on his own. No child welfare worker came to his rescue, and no neighbors took him in.  What little he had of a childhood ended that day when he was sixteen years old.  He never returned to school and I didn’t see him again for about year until I ran into him working as a bus boy in a 24-hour diner located on the west side of Pensacola, Florida.  He told me that for a time he lived in the woods while he sorted things out and found a job.  He’s been working ever since.  Every day, he’s gone off to difficult unpleasant jobs that don’t offer a future that’s any better than the present and a paycheck that most of us couldn’t live on.

Danny isn’t simply an acquaintance. He has proven himself to be a loyal friend for so long and on so many occasions that our not being friends isn’t an option.  We’ve shared apartments, protected each other’s backs during more than one street fight, explored the streets of New Orleans together, shared adventures that will never be retold, and shared the experience of growing from boys into men, and then into middle-age.  He’s seen my very best and my very worst, knows many of my secrets, and he’s never once wavered. Saying Danny isn’t my friend would be like saying my left arm is no longer part of my body. He is my true friend.

To be poor and white is to be defective in the eyes of many

This is why I was stunned and felt betrayed when Danny told me that he voted for Donald Trump.  We don’t normally talk politics and I’d always assumed we were on the same page.  Everything I know about Danny and his life tells me that Donald Trump doesn’t reflect his values or his interests.  I asked myself how he couldn’t see that Trump offered nothing but greater hardship in his life?

Danny explained that his vote wasn’t for Trump as much as it was against more of the same. He felt injured by the Affordable Care Act because he wasn’t able to purchase health insurance, so he lost his income tax refund as a penalty.  He doesn’t closely follow politics so he wasn’t unaware that part of the difficulty he experienced trying to get health insurance was due to Governor Rick Scott’s rejection of federal assistance for people like him.  All Danny knew was he was losing his annual windfall because of something that felt out of his hands.  His employers weren’t providing insurance, and his attempts to buy health insurance were futile.  Being self-employed, I can relate. My wife has spent countless hours on the phone with our insurance agent making sure our coverage continues.

That Danny doesn’t identify with people in the progressive movement shouldn’t surprise anyone.  Working-class white men like Danny are easy targets for progressive arrogance.  To be white, male, uneducated, and poor is to be an exception to the idea of white male privilege and such people are written off lazy, morally corrupt, or engaged in some form of substance abuse.  Unworthy of either compassion or assistance, people like Danny are easily maligned, ignored, or overlooked by progressives who, at the end of the day, care more about their causes than they do the people they’re supposedly trying to save. I suspect that Danny knows this. He may be poor and he may lack formal education, but he’s not stupid, and he reads people very well.

Even if progressives took a moment to talk with Danny, I can’t imagine they’d see him as I do.  Danny speaks in what is often pejorative and politically incorrect language that instantly offends progressive sensibilities. His is the speech of people who work in warehouses, the back ends of restaurants, slaughter houses, and all the other places where backbreaking dirty work gets done. The sometimes-brash offensiveness of his language isn’t hostility or aggression as much as it’s a remaining vestige of personal power for those who live in a world where other people hold most of the power. There are times during our conversations when he gets emotional and the F-bombs start to fall during every sentence, punctuating his language and stories with a brashness that refuses to capitulate to the judgment of the world.  So many of my progressive friends explode with righteous indignation at the very first sign of anything they deem to be tinged with racism, sexism, or any of the other many “isms” claimed as their causes.  What is missed by this self-righteousness that vilifies poor working-class white men like Danny is the understanding that this is the language of the oppressed, not the language of oppression.  It’s like judging a book by its cover.  The outside might be rough and sometimes unattractive, but what’s inside the pages is pure gold.  Danny isn’t a racist, a homophobe, or any kind of hateful person.  He lives in a neighborhood and works in a workplace that are much more integrated than mine are.  His friends and neighbors come from all groups, but I don’t think he’s aware of this.  When he speaks of people, he speaks of their character, of their acts of kindness, and their ethics.  I know from experience that he doesn’t consider race, gender, or sexual orientation for a moment when he sees someone in need.  If he’s able, he helps with a full and complete heart.

The Forgotten America where people like my friend, Danny, live.

The last time I stayed over, which was a few years ago, Danny didn’t have internet or even email. The only piece of technology he had was a second-hand X-Box video game he had hooked up to his television.  Maybe it’s the lack of technology that keeps him from spending his days obsessing over 24 hour news or participating in non-productive Facebook political discussions where we seek out people who reaffirm our ideas and arguments. Based upon our conversations, I sense that Danny spends his time on concerns that are much more immediate.  Will he get overtime this week at work, or will the boss cut his hours?  How is he going to raise $1,500 to pay for the colonoscopy that his Doctor wants him to have that isn’t covered by the low value health insurance policy he’s now getting through his employer? Can he go down the street to the new company that just opened up and get a job that pays 50 cents more per hour?  With problems like these, you would think that he would fully embrace progressive ideas like better wages and better healthcare, but how much does the left really talk about such things, much less actually take action on the issues that impact Danny’s world?  Progressive activists are sure to lose his attention when they begin their tirades about renouncing privilege, avoiding cultural appropriation, and embracing intersectionality – concepts that I hardly understand after more than 7 years of higher education, concepts that all seem to heap the blame for every historical and current injustice in the world upon white males, and which seem irrelevant and ridiculous when you’re stuck on the bottom looking up.

Maybe someday those of us on the left will get over ourselves and stop reducing people to stereotypes.  Imagine the coalitions and relationships that could happen if we simply gave people the benefit of the doubt and offered them a place at the table regardless of whatever warts they might bring with them. Who might join our causes if we let go of moral and intellectual arrogance and replaced it with a sense of true kinship with our communities?  How many other Dannys are out there, sitting ignored on the side-lines?

Archie Bunker – Where Are You? America Needs You….

We need Archie Bunker to save America. Even though he was a fictional character of an uneducated, narrow-minded, right-wing, homophobic racist bigot, he spoke to us all during the turmoil of the Vietnam War, the Sexual Revolution, and Watergate, and we all loved him, or we at least loved hating him.  Growing up in the 1970’s, I remember that iconic theme song as each week my family would watch Archie clash with his hippie son-in-law, Michael, (a.k.a: “Meathead”), his feminist daughter, Gloria, his long-suffering wife, Edith, and a parade of relatives and neighbors. Through their conflicts they struggled with the social and political upheaval of the time.

At a time when many were losing faith in the institutions of American life, and many feared our nation wouldn’t survive, Archie was there every week being his loud and obnoxious self.  Despite his divisive ideas and arguments, he brought us together and carried us through in a way that no other character of the time did.  It didn’t matter if you were a liberal hippie or a Nixon Republican, you could watch Archie Bunker, and somehow it wasn’t so bad.

Archie and Edith’s chairs are now part of the collection of the Museum of American History in Washington DC

When I see the reruns of All in the Family today, I’m amazed at the complexity of the writing. The interplay between Archie and the Meathead, both of them strong-willed, self-righteous, and attempting to shout the other down, all the while missing how similar they really are, was the most radical television of its era.   I loved the irony of the Meathead trying to change Archie, often judging him, while also accepting the free room and board that allowed him to obtain the education that he so often wielded against Archie.

Perhaps it was the competing, and often opposing, characteristics within the character of Archie Bunker that endeared him to so many of us.  Despite his ignorance and prejudice, there were also facets of him that were kind, compassionate, and selfless, and his desire to be a good person could not be ignored by the viewer.  His racial and ethnic prejudices, which were a running theme of the show, weren’t simple.  He wasn’t a cross-burning Klan style bigot, his was a prejudice that was fueled by tradition more than hatred, and maintained by a fear of change. He didn’t ask for forgiveness or understanding, but there were boundaries to his prejudices that humanized him.

Archie Bunker was a complex character of good and bad, innocent and guilty.

Archie Bunker did more than just give America an opportunity to spend 30 minutes each week laughing at itself, he gave us an image of ourselves that was far from perfect, yet was worthy of redemption, and would occasionally find its best self.  He let us see each other beyond the single dimensions created by the labels that we often attach to each other.  He showed us that we’re all capable of growing, of being kind to the stranger, and that we can love each other without agreeing or “fixing” each other.

As I look at America today and the angry divisions that I fear are going to tear us apart, I wonder what happened to Archie Bunker?  Can the left and right still laugh at themselves and their own hypocrisies? Do we still have the ability to look past the labels, the differences of opinion, and see something good in each other?  How would Archie, Edith, Gloria, and Michael (a.k.a: “Meathead”) navigate the issues of our time?  Where would Archie fall on the political spectrum today?  He was a dedicated union member, which is now inconsistent with the conservative politics with which he identified a generation ago. What would Archie Bunker be like with today’s never-ending stream of fear-inducing headlines? Would Michael and Gloria have outgrown their youthful idealism?  Would the passionate arguments between Meathead and Archie end with claims of “fake news”?

I don’t know the answers to these questions, but I sure do wish Archie was still around to get us through the present day.  All In The Family was a safe place in which to look at ourselves and laugh through the discomfort of the image that the show reflected. While we don’t admit it, I think there is a little bit of Archie and the Meathead in all of us, and it’s good for us to be reminded of that.  Sadly, the 1970’s sitcom is long-gone in this era of reality television, Facebook postings, and YouTube videos. Walter Cronkite and the evening news have been replaced by Rush Limbaugh, Rachel Maddow, and a million blogs offering up dubious, yet self-validating content 24 hours a day.  We now have the power to create our own reality that reinforces our beliefs and image of ourselves – no matter how incorrect, shallow, or one dimensional that “reality” may be.  Maybe instead of unfriending each other and posting every news article that says, “I’m right and you’re wrong” we need “All In the Family” rerun parties where we stream those long-ago filmed episodes of life at 704 Hauser Street?  Maybe the magic will still be there, we’ll all share a laugh at ourselves, all be humbled just enough, and be able to find enough love and goodness in each other to carry on together.

 

You Shall Not Oppress The Stranger: My Call for Respect and Dignity for Transgendered People

I don’t know what it’s like to be a transgendered person.  I’ve always felt that my body and gender are one and the same and simply who I am.  That’s not true for everyone, which I think some people view as suspect since they’ve never experienced a disconnect between their body and gender.

I’m certainly no expert on this subject.  When the terms cis-male came up in a recent conversation I had to ask one of my friends what that meant (a cis-male is a non-transgendered male). However, I have encountered a few transgendered people and I’ve gotten some glimpses into their lives that have shaped my thoughts.

My first memory of encountering a transgendered person was almost 20 years ago when I was working nights as an Emergency Room volunteer at Tallahassee Memorial Hospital.  A biological male dressed in women’s clothing was brought in after having been physically attacked when leaving a bar.  The beating was vicious.  The police brought him in, but it was clear to me that they had no interest in finding the people who attacked this person. I remember one of the nurses making a derogatory statement about how he should have expected the beating. I remember that when the man was discharged, nobody offered him fresh clothes and nobody came to pick him up and carry him home.  He was left to walk out through the waiting room with his bandaged face and wearing the blood stained and torn dress he’d been wearing when attacked.

A short time later, a woman who was transitioning to being male came to work at the computer center where I worked during the evenings while I was in school. The way I understood the story, he was a state employee who worked as a computer programmer.  None of the state agencies wanted him and our director had offered him a position.  He wasn’t allowed to work in the cube farm with the other programmers, but was kept isolated in a small windowless former storage room.

My next encounter with a transgendered person was when I represented a young effeminate black teenager who had been expelled from the Leon County school system after getting into a conflict with his school principal over his wearing skirts to school. The young man was in foster care, living in a group home, because his mother wouldn’t stop beating him with a belt in order to stop him from being such a sissy.

When people discuss the rights and protections of transgendered people, I think of the transgendered people I’ve known, the difficulties they’ve faced, and the harms they’ve suffered.  As a result, I am absolutely certain in the moral righteousness of providing whatever legal protections are necessary to allow transgendered people to live their lives with dignity and without fear of harm or persecution.  The bathroom issue gets no traction with me.  To limit someone’s bathroom choice based upon their birth gender, rather than the gender in which they live their life, is not rooted in protection for anyone, but in a denial of the reality of transgender issues and the hardships transgendered people face.  Simply put, it’s rooted in ignorance and xenophobia.

Throughout history people have attacked those who live outside the mainstream. Those who are different are so often used as the scapegoats upon which society focuses its fears and prejudices.  Transgendered people are the proverbial strangers in the mainstream where most of us exist, which makes it sadly ironic that so many who seek to oppress and reject them claim to be religious people. Repeatedly, the Bible tells its readers not to oppress the stranger, but to protect the stranger.  Not oppressing the stranger is the most repeated Biblical commandment. It is the central message of Western religious thought. Refusing someone the right to use the bathroom consistent with their identity is oppression, even more so when one is talking about school children.  Sadly, those who hold power in the United States today have missed this fundamental lesson of religious and historical morality and are using their power to incite hatred and abuse upon the most vulnerable members of our society.

 

Happiness in An Unhappy Profession

Associate Attorney is the Most Unhappy Occupation

I’m a happy person working in a profession that includes what some have called the most unhappy job in America.  According to an article published on the Above The Law legal blog, the most unhappy job in America is associate attorney.  To be fair, I’m not now, nor have I ever been, an associate attorney.  An associate attorney is a lawyer who works in a law firm as an employee.  The closest I’ve ever come is the almost two years I spent working as an assistant public defender immediately after law school. I loved the Public Defender’s Office.  The work was intense, I was in court every single day, and my co-workers were great.

I really love being a lawyer despite what the researchers say.  Sure, it’s a lot of difficult hard work. Being a self-employed lawyer is risky with lots of ups and downs.  Sometimes it’s heartbreaking because I don’t always win and I argue from the heart.  It always hurts when a judge or a jury rejects an argument that I’ve spent days researching and crafting. I’ve had to learn to pick myself up, shake off the damage, and keep going.

I’m not wealthy, and my income is very modest compared to most lawyers, but I don’t feel at all impoverished. Instead, I feel incredibly fortunate.  I get to work at home a lot where I sit at my desk in shorts and a comfortable shirt with my dog at my feet and my cat occasionally interrupting me with a jog across my keyboard.  I get to work with my wife, who challenges and supports me in every way.  I chose my clients and the cases on which I want to work.   I have complete control over the tools I use from the pens we buy for the office to the software we use.  I even get to choose my working hours and I can take off as much time off as I’d like and can afford.

I don’t really understand being unhappy as a lawyer because I find what we do to be so incredibly interesting.  Legal cases are stories, often imperfect, always fascinating, and always teaching us something about ourselves and the world in which we live.   When I step into a courtroom on behalf of a client, I am privileged to tell my client’s story.  Each case gives me an opportunity to change someone’s life, and sometimes I can even change the rules by which we all play.  I’ve gotten to stand next to people who came to me feeling that no one was listening or cared and I’ve shown my clients that they have a voice and are worthy of respect.  Sometimes I can even persuade people to care about someone they’d overlooked.  My arguments don’t always work, but sometimes, when I’m in the right court, with the right facts, and the right argument, I get to change the world.  To do that once in your life is amazing, but to get the opportunity to do that every single day, is a priceless gift to me.

Public Interest Lawyers Work Hard, But Have the Highest Happiness Rankings

According to the New York Times, another study indicates that the happiest lawyers are public interest lawyers, those at the lowest end of the lawyer pay scale. Public interest lawyers make only a fraction of the earnings of firm associates, and are paupers compared to firm partners, but they’re the happiest of all lawyers.  Clearly, more money isn’t the key. The article speculates that the reason for this difference in happiness is:

“The problem with the more prestigious jobs, said Mr. Krieger, is that they do not provide feelings of competence, autonomy or connection to others — three pillars of self-determination theory, the psychological model of human happiness on which the study was based. Public-service jobs do.”

I think there is truth to this speculation. I love the opportunities for self-determination and autonomy that my work provides.  Most valuable of all to me is the connection my work creates for me with my clients, other lawyers, the judges before whom I practice, and the community in which I live.

I didn’t consciously chose the pathway to happiness when I started my legal career.  My life is really a product of happy circumstance combined with what I often see as a somewhat selfish tendency to choose experience over monetary benefit.  I would rather scrape by in a job that I feel makes a difference, than do unfulfilling work that pays a lot of money.  I am also aware that I’m very fortunate because I get to make that choice. So far, I’m happy with the outcome, so I guess I’ll just keep on doing what I’ve been doing.

 

 

Lessons I Learned As a Synagogue President That Might Help Donald Trump

“Good” v. “Bad” Leaders

I am an unlikely synagogue president and Donald Trump is an unlikely American President.  Prior to becoming president of my small lay-led shul a little over a year ago, I was only marginally involved.  I didn’t attend services regularly and I wasn’t active with any committees or organizations. Prior to his campaign and election as president, Donald Trump had no involvement in government.  Like Donald Trump, I came into office as an outsider seeking to create change.

My transition into the role as synagogue president was difficult at first and often bumpy. For a while it seemed like constant conflict. I know that some people had serious concerns that I was going to single-handedly destroy the Congregation through changes that I felt were necessary for ensuring our survival.  As I watch Donald Trump’s first few days in office, I think of the mistakes I made and the lessons I’ve learned. Like Trump I’ve run a business, but leading a synagogue, like leading a nation, is a completely different experience. I don’t know who is advising Trump but if I were asked what advice I would give him, here is what I would say:

  • Go Slowly – You’re the new kid on the block. It’s very tempting to want to change everything at once, but change often frightens people. To accept your leadership through change, people have to trust you, and that trust has to be earned. Start will small low-risk changes, then move onto the bigger projects.  Unless there is an immediate crisis that cannot wait, take the time to build consensus and to carefully examine your ideas as you gain institutional knowledge.
  • Find Your Mentors – Seek out those who have been around a while and seek their guidance. Their advice can save you a lot of work and heartache since they know how things work, how to get things done, and what hasn’t worked in the past.
  • Ignore the hateful comments – Nothing good comes from a leader responding to hateful statements. Remember, you hold the power that comes with your office, the people criticizing you don’t have that power. A rude response just makes the leader look like a bully. You have to accept that any time you occupy a leadership position people are going to sometimes disagree with you.  That disagreement is sometimes expressed in angry hateful ways.  You have to be above it, but it’s not always easy.
  • Throw your opponents a bone every now and then – There will always be people who oppose your vison and ideas. Their input is valuable because they’re often the first to see the weaknesses in a proposed plan of action or change. Don’t fight them on everything. Give them a place at the table and an opportunity to contribute.  Besides, you may need their goodwill someday.  Midterm elections can drastically change the balance of power and the good will you build today can be essential to making any progress later.
  • Rules Are Your Friend – Complying with rules that sometimes seem like outdated impediments to implementing your vision can be frustrating, but is absolutely necessary. As a leader, you have to do all you can to protect the organization and the integrity of the office you hold. If you want to lead with any legitimate authority, the rules have to govern you even more than the people you lead.  Following the rules communicates that you are not a tyrant, but an ethical and principled leader.  I frequently remind my board: “Principles before personalities”.
  • Beware the late-night email – I’ve learned that if I get an email from a board member or congregant that is sent after 10pm at night it’s probably a long angry message peppered with insults. These emails can be hurtful. Fortunately, I don’t get many of these anymore, but when I do, I’ve learned to take a deep breath and under no circumstances do I send my own late-night angry response.  I usually give it a day or so and then I either call the person or I invite them to coffee to discuss their upset. So far, I’ve only had one person with whom I couldn’t improve things by sitting down and talking.
  • It’s Not About You – Things are going to happen that are out of your control or that you didn’t anticipate. You will often get the blame or the credit for these events.  Share the credit, shoulder the blame, and move on.  You’re only a temporary occupant of an office that will continue long after your term ends.

Monday Morning Spirit Lift!

Lots of people have been feeling down lately.  Maybe their team lost a big game in a stunning upset, or the news coming out of DC has got them down.  Instead of the regular blog post, this week I offer you a short video that I hope will make you smile and forget your troubles for a moment.  I invite you to take a walk in the woods with my dog, Banjo. In his world, there is nothing better than a walk in the forest on a sunny day.

The Wind Beneath My Wings At the Florida Bar President’s Pro Bono Award

It was too late when I realized that the suit I’d chosen to wear had a hole in the bottom of the left pocket rendering the pocket useless. I only own 3 suits and they’re all several years old and coordinated with the pair of brown wing-tip dress shoes that constitute my only pair of dress shoes. I’d already discarded one dress shirt as being too threadbare which cost me time and I’d spent a lot of time trying to find the new tie I wanted to wear that suddenly went missing after being in my hand. I eventually located the new tie hiding out in my sock drawer with no idea how it got there. My wife was handing me a collection of things she wanted me to carry since she had no pockets at all. Her cell phone, a lipstick, her ID in a little plastic case, her keys,… it turned out to be a lot of stuff.  I struggled to find places for all the items. My working pocket bulged and I feared that I would soon have no working pockets at all. I also wondered when my wife decided that my role in life was to be a pack mule?

Barbara Takes My Picture on the Steps of the Florida Supreme Court

We were headed to the Florida Supreme Court for a ceremony in which I was one of couple dozen lawyers who were being honored for our pro bono work.  Thanks to a nomination by Legal Services of North Florida, I was to receive the Florida Bar President’s Pro Bono Award for the Second Judicial Circuit. The entire Florida Supreme Court, less one Justice who was recovering from surgery, would be there along with the president of the Florida Bar.  This was my first time inside the Florida Supreme Court and one of the biggest honors I’ve ever received.  My close friend, James Cook, who is one of the best lawyers I’ve ever known, won the award last year, and the list of previous recipients included the names of several other friends and noted lawyers for whom I have great respect and admiration.

I was very honored to receive the Florida Bar President’s Pro Bono Award for the Second Judicial Circuit

The award ceremony was very nice.  It was dignified without being stale.  The presentation of awards to deserving recipients was punctuated by heartfelt sincere speeches on the importance of pro bono work that held my attention without going on too long or becoming too preachy.  I sat with the other award recipients on cushioned benches inside the well, the area between the railing that separates the spectators’ gallery and the bench where the Judges sit.  When the time came for me to receive my award, they called my name and I walked to the podium where I was presented with a large certificate by the Florida Bar president.  He said some nice words to me, and then shook my hand while a photographer took our photo. As I posed for the photographer I could see my wife, Barbara, camera in hand, directly behind him. As previously instructed by the organizers, I went and stood in front of the bench where the Supreme Court Justices were sitting and waited while they presented the other awards. I breathed a sigh of relief that I managed to get through the process without stumbling or forgetting to zip up my pants.

After the ceremony, there was a photo session with all the award recipients that made me feel a bit like a rock star. There were big complex looking cameras wielded by serious looking photographers. There was Barbara too, with my little Olympus, making sure she documented the experience for me. When everyone was done taking pictures, I joined the crowd of guests in the rotunda area where an incredible reception awaited.  I was especially delighted to see that had those little spanakopita bites that are a favorite of mine. Barbara was waiting for me there and proudly introduced me to a gentleman from St. Petersburg, Florida as her award-winning husband.

Later that night, when the festivities were finished and the routine quiet of our lives had once again returned, I thought about the experience of winning this award. It occurred me that the pro bono cases for which I was honored weren’t only my sacrifice.  In every single one of those cases, my wife Barbara, was by my side every single step of the way. She proofread pleadings, helped me strategize, attended Court hearings with me, encouraged me when I was discouraged.  It’s important to note that although they give you awards for the cases you win, there were other pro bono cases we’ve done that we didn’t win, yet she was always there right by my side.  Losing for me is devastating, but she helps me pick myself up every time. She could have objected to my pro bono work since it takes me away from the money-making cases that we depend upon and there have been many times when we’ve had to pinch pennies to get through.  Contrary to what the insurance companies and their paid-for politicians tell you, the vast majority of trial lawyers are not millionaires.  Most of us live precarious lives, investing our own money while taking on other people’s causes as our own, hoping for a fair judge or jury and the skill to navigate the procedural hurtles required to be allowed to tell our clients’ stories.  Such a life wouldn’t be possible for me without the unwavering support of my wife, Barbara, who remains confident in me even when I start to doubt myself.

I hope that I was able to honor my wife and the other women in my life by marching with 14,000 other people in support of women’s rights.

It occurred to me again on Saturday as I marched through the streets of Tallahassee for Women’s Rights in the rain, one person among a crowd of 14,000, how much I owe in my life to the women who have been part of it.  My wife, mother, mother-in-law, step-mother, sister-in-law, nieces, aunts, sisters, cousins, friends, teachers, nurses, doctors, classmates, clients who trust me to be their lawyer,…the list is endless. So much of my passion for justice on behalf of working-class families comes from growing up in a female-led single parent home.  I’ve witnessed the struggles of the women in my life for equality and justice, and I know that while education and economic well-being provide some protection for women, the inequality never completely goes away.  I also know that I wouldn’t be who I am today, or able to do the things I’m able to do today, without the many women who have given me their love and support throughout my life.

I didn’t get to give a speech at the award ceremony, which was probably a good thing.  I don’t think that I could compete with the great words that were offered.  However, I do want to say something, and that’s thank you to my wife and all the other women who have supported me, trusted me, and helped me to pursue my dreams.  Words simply cannot express my respect and adoration for you all.

Anger on the Road to Fascism in America

I have a problem that’s pulling my focus away from work and decreasing my enjoyment of life. It has led me into non-productive arguments on Facebook and is  causing me to avoid people.  This problem has me rethinking whether or not I want continue to live in the United States, whether or I want to continue to practice law, whether I want to leave the State of Florida, and whether or not I want to disown some of my relatives.

My problem is a growing sense of anger and disgust with Donald Trump, the people who support him, and our current political situation. This is contrary to how I want to live my life.  I believe in tolerance, civil discourse, giving people a chance, forgiveness, and diversity in the broadest sense of the word, but I’m failing to live up to my ideals as the anger and disgust I feel grows each time I see a news article about Donald Trump’s latest tweet or press conference.  I feel like I’m living through a dystopian nightmare.  I am constantly reminding myself that it’s not my job to judge other people, it’s not my job to tell anyone how to think, and that the only person in this world over whom I have any control over is  me.

Donald Trump is merely the symbol of a democracy that I’m rapidly losing respect for and faith in.  I understand that some people don’t care for Hillary Clinton, but there were several ethical and qualified Republican and Democratic candidates from whom we could have chosen.  That a human being as ill-equipped, divisive, and offensive as Donald Trump would win the contest for the presidency, while losing the popular vote by millions, is appalling to me.  As the evidence mounts of Russian interference, Trump’s possible collaboration with the

Putin government makes this seem even less like an election and more like a military coup orchestrated by a foreign government designed to destabilize my country.  That Trump continues to refuse to disclose or divest himself from his business conflicts of interest while denouncing our own intelligence agencies and cozying up to Putin makes me even more suspicious that Trump is far less than loyal to our nation. Trump will likely ask our young men and women to sacrifice their lives in defense of our country, and yet he is completely unwilling to undertake any personal sacrifice for the good of our nation.  It’s simply appalling.

Under normal circumstances, Mr. Trump would be counter-balanced by the other branches of government, but that seems less likely these days.  Statesmanship is lost in our current partisan system where the well-being of the nation is secondary to party loyalty.  Gerrymandering to ensure party control and to remove the accountability of elected representatives to the voters has given us State and Federal governments that are increasingly Republican dominated.  As voters, we ignore this and never question why, for instance, Florida has more registered Democrats than Republicans, yet our government is so Republican dominated that there is virtually no Democratic voice in our state government. We now see this happening at the Federal level as well.

I’m disgusted by the Republican refusal to honor the will of the voters on those increasingly rare occasions when a Democrat can win an election.  Republicans in Congress did all they could to prevent President Obama from being able to make progress on the issues voters twice elected him to address. Republicans stood by and tacitly condoned and exploited what were too often racist and bigoted attacks on President Obama, even calling into question his birth and religion.  Most egregiously, they refused to even consider his nominee for Supreme Court Justice, a moderate who was well qualified for the appointment.

Refusal to allow elected Democrats to govern is not limited to our Federal government. Compromise is gone. Obstructionism at all costs is now part of the Republican play book. The North Carolina legislature, a Republican dominated body, passed laws, signed by the outgoing defeated Republican governor, restricting the powers of the governor’s office upon the election of Roy Cooper, a Democrat. Fortunately, this effort was blocked by the Courts on constitutional grounds, but I doubt that the North Carolina legislature will slow down one bit in their efforts to make him as ineffective as possible.  I don’t think we’re even close to seeing the end of this. The Republican mantra of the day seems to be “the will of the voters be dammed, party above all else”.

The costs of this partisan anger hardly seem to matter to anyone.  We’re now seeing both Trump and Congress rushing full-speed into a repeal of the Affordable Care Act regardless of the consequences on vulnerable Americans or the healthcare institutions that serve our communities. We hear nothing substantive about what comes after the repeal other than one of Trump’s bullshit promises that it’ll be great and we’ll love it.  Do I even need

Giant Taxpayer Funded Boondoggle – Wall with Mexico

to mention that mother-of-all government boondoggles, Trump’s promised wall between the U.S. and Mexico, which we are now being told we have to pay for out of our tax dollars that are too limited to pay for good schools, good infrastructure, or health care.

This is not to say that I give the Democrats a pass on our current situation.  For too long Democrats have been nothing more than “Republican-light”.  The DNC has ignored the strong populist support for candidates such as Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, while backing establishment candidates who offer little in the way of meaningful change. Hillary Clinton might have been a historic candidate by virtue of her gender, but her policy ideas rarely drifted far from the safe mainline script of business-as-usual.  Locally, I would point to Bill Montford and Michelle Rehwinkel Vasilinda, who were both elected as Democrats.  Vasalinda, who left office in November, left the Democratic party and declared her support of Trump in the recent election.  Perhaps her move is more honest than Montford, who promotes a good-ole-boy persona while accepting massive campaign donations from corporate special interest groups and is more of a closet Republican than a progressive Democrat. Montford has remained almost silent about the economic well-being of people in Florida while voting in support of anti-consumer measures such as legislation that carved out exemptions for dishonest car dealers and restricted the ability of injured individuals and families to sue dishonest dealerships under Florida’s Unfair and Deceptive Trade Practices Act.

This partisanship and vile political discourse are paralyzing our government and creating very hostile divisions among us.  I recently had dinner with a relative whose eyes burned with fury as she parroted fake news stories to denigrate all Democrats, including me and friends of hers.  Her anger seemed to obliterate all the good memories and acts of kindness in those relationships. Many of us seem to be falling prey to this anger and hostility. Several people on different ends of the political spectrum have told me that they are withdrawing from social groups to avoid dealing with the growing political anger.  For the first time in 16 years, I’m contemplating not going to Sun-n-Fun because I simply don’t want to hear the political discussions and opinions that sometimes get shared there. I should be better than this, but it’s difficult.  Facebook has become a loathsome place to visit due to the never-ending feed of people sharing angry political posts and fake news stories that do nothing other than feed the growing anger.  I’m tired and worn out by all this, but I don’t see it ending.  I see us going down the very dark road of fascism and it’s a journey that I really don’t want to take.