Originally I wasn’t going to write a diary this week.
I think we can all guess why. Tuesday night was a gut punch, and after I finally crawled into bed I lay shaking and sweating until I was dehydrated. The only thing that kept me grounded was Gil the Wonder Cat, who crawled in after me and plastered his soft fluffy body flat against my legs. He stayed there all night no matter how much I tossed and turned, and he was there when I finally gave up on sleep and staggered to the bathroom just as drawn broke. He even stayed by me as I checked my email, curled on the foot of my bed and watching me with worried golden eyes.
I owe that cat a lot. I really do.
And it was his loyalty, his instinctive need to comfort and warm and steady his human, that made me realize that as attractive as it might be to despair and crawl back into bed forever, we can’t. If we’re to save Obama’s legacy — if we’re to save Roosevelt’s legacy — we cannot succumb to grief and pain. To paraphrase Stacker Pentecost in Pacific Rim, it’s time to stop mourning and start working to cancel the apocalypse.
Or, to quote my favorite comic book character and unofficial (and copyright by others) mascot of this blog:
“Doesn't matter what the press says. Doesn't matter what the politicians or the mobs say. Doesn't matter if the whole country decides that something wrong is something right.
“This nation was founded on one principle above all else: The requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or the consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world -- "No, YOU move.”
So...you know what to do. Sign petitions. Canvass. Donate money, take a package of cookies to a candidate’s office, attend a public meeting. Run for school committee or planning board. March, lobby, call, email. If we work, if we write, if we vote and blog and protest, if we make the process of repealing the twentieth century too difficult and annoying to be borne, we have a chance to forestall disaster long enough to make 2018 be something more than an opportunity for the Republicans to consolidate their power.
Make THEM move for a change.
And if all of us together aren’t enough to ward off the Apocalypse for a day, an hour, a week or two or three, then do everything in your power to protect your rights and those of friends and loved ones and total strangers who can’t defend themselves. Speak up when someone is harassed in front of you. Clean up racist graffiti. Make a point of being seen in public as you are, with your true friends, and don’t ever apologize for existing. Strap on your shield, hold your head high and take a stand. Even if the odds are against us, we don’t let this country and its institutions and its promise be demolished by a greedy Congress and a buffoon in a bad toupee.
To give you courage, and help pass the long winter nights, tonight I bring you five books about politics. Some are terrifying, others thought provoking, but all offer insight into how politicians think, how politics work, and how easy it is for complacency us to blind us to threats until it is too late. And all of them, even the most prescient and frightening, offer some glimmer of hope:
It Can’t Happen Here, by Sinclair Lewis — I first read this in high school, when I was on a class trip to Austria and was desperate for something in English. Critics don’t see it as his best — that’s still probably Main Street or Babbitt — but this satire of Huey Long and the similarities of his populism to fascism in Europe still packs a punch. Doremus Jessup, the newspaper editor who goes from bourgeois citizen to underground leader, could be anyone who’s ever had to stand up to oppression, while President Berzelius “Buzz” Windrip is frighteningly close to what will be our reality in January. This book literally shaped my life and thought, and it still packs a punch.
All The King’s Men, by Robert Penn Warren — yet another novel inspired by Huey Long, this one is darker, grittier, and rich with local details. Warren was also a poet, and it really shows in his skillful use of language and narrative flow. Willie Stark is a chilling depiction of how a well intentioned man can become a demagogue, and Jack Burden’s decision and its consequences pose a troubling moral conundrum. It’s the basis for two films, one starring Broderick Crawford, the other Sean Penn, but unless you’re a real Penn fan, stick with the original.
Seven Days in May, by Fletcher Knebel and Charles W. Bailey, II — yes, it was written in the 60’s. Yes, it’s set in a 1970’s that bears almost no resemblance to actuality. Once you start reading, none of that matters as the twisty, harrowing tale of a powerful general attempting a military coup unfolds. General James Mattoon Scott was reportedly based on Edwin Walker (aka, the man Lee Oswald practiced on before blowing Jack Kennedy’s head off) but there are echoes of Douglas MacArthur as well. Like All the King’s Men, this also was made into a classic movie, this one starring Kirk Douglas, Frederic March, and a chilling Burt Lancaster as the would-be dictator.
Advise and Consent, by Allen Drury — Allen Drury worked for years as a political reporter covering Congress, and boy oh boy does it show in this compelling novel about a Senate confirmation hearing and how it goes completely off the rails. Drury isn’t as good a writer as Warren (or even Knebel and Bailey), and the reputation of this book is somewhat marred by a succession of increasingly mediocre sequels, but the original is still an excellent look at Cold War paranoia, the inner workings of government, and the lengths to which a president might go to secure a legacy.
Heart of War, by Lucian K. Truscott IV — Truscott, grandson of World War II legend Lucian K. Truscott Jr., is best known for his insider’s look at West Point, Dress Gray, later a superb miniseries scripted by Gore Vidal. This book isn’t as well known but is better in many ways, with a tighter plot and more diverse cast of characters. Ostensibly the story of a JAG officer faced with an ugly murder case, it touches on themes like fraternization, same-sex relationships within the military, and the power of human love to prevail in the end.
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Do you have an old copy of one of these in the knotty pine rumpus room? Have you seen a film based on one? Do you have a battered paperback you can read on the picket line or the DC Metro when you go to lobby Congress? Go out, fight, and remember: failure is not an option, any more than it was in 1941….
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