It is still pitch dark outside; a few buildings are illuminated at the foot of Mt. Scenery. From my balcony, a cock crows in the distance, harbinger of the coming dawn.
For reasons unknown, I woke an hour ago and discovered Morpheus had fled and I was now a participant in the day, whether I wanted or not.
It’s fine. If I am tired later there is nothing keeping me from napping. It is my last day on Saba before I return home to the cottage. This a rock of an island and doesn’t sport the voluptuous beaches of other Caribbean islands and I have grown, in a few days, quite fond of the place and hope I get to return this side of paradise.
Yesterday afternoon, I almost felt I lived here. Donna, the taxi driver, took me on a tour of the island and then left me in Windward Side to do some shopping. By the end of the tour, Donna felt like my new best friend.
As I strolled around, Hemmie, who owns the hotel where I am staying drove by and gaily waved at me as did several people I had seen in restaurants. Recognition deserves friendliness here.
It is almost but not quite chill this morning.
It is also probably chill in quite a few places back in America, where everyone, it seems, is talking about President Trump’s Press Conference. One of the best takes on it is from Shep Smith on Fox News. If interested, you can find it here.
Because I am on a spec of an island in the Caribbean with not much to do but enough that I’m not following every step of President Trump’s progress – or lack thereof, I saw only bits and pieces, most of them disturbing.
In the pre-dawn darkness, with cocks crowing the coming dawn, seated on my bed, I am thinking that I am living the Chinese curse: may you live in interesting times. For these are “interesting” times.
In the White House sits a man who seems disconnected from reality, incapable of telling the absolute truth, also incapable of spinning a good untruth. The Russian questions aren’t going away until they’re answered and calling them “fake news” is only going to make more of us want to know what the “real news” is about what was going on while Trump’s folks were apparently cozying up to Russian officials.
It is disturbing to watch.
Mr. Trump proclaimed his administration is acting like “a finely oiled machine.” Oh, please, Mr. Trump…
Ah, but here I am on the island of Saba, part of the Netherlands, which is having its own struggle with the “alt right” movement. And that seems far away to the inhabitants of this little island which seems to want nothing more than to live in harmony with each other as best they can.
There was a murder here back in 1989 and not another one until 2015, which happened at the medical school that’s here, educating men and women who want to be doctors and who couldn’t find slots in the States.
Donna told me she’s never fearful about wandering around on the island and I haven’t locked my doors since I arrived. There is a lock; I just haven’t used it. I don’t feel the need.
And that’s very hygge.
Just as this moment is, sitting on my bed, typing away, feeling a little sleepy again and thinking that when I am finished, I’ll see if Morpheus will return to my side and give me an hour or two more rest.
Letter From Claverack 02 20 2017 Musings while seeking Morpheus…
February 20, 2017My day began at 4:00 AM EST, 5:00 AM AST [Atlantic Standard Time] on the sun blessed isle of Saba where I woke, finished packing, drank some coffee and was picked up by my friends on the island and went to the airport to begin an epic journey back to Claverack. Cars, planes, automobiles and trains. Had them all covered today.
Flying to St. Martin, I went on to New York and from New York went by train to Hudson, got to my car and came home.
Earlier this week, I was wide awake in the early hours of the day and now I am awake in the late hours of the night and so, instead of staring at the ceiling, decided to open the laptop and do a letter…
When I came into the drive, I realized how hard this winter has been on the gravel drive and I have some work to do in the spring to redistribute the gravel pushed aside by the snow plow.
It did feel wonderful to pull into the drive and see the little cottage, all snug and waiting. Coming in, I turned up the heat a bit, made myself a martini and started to unpack. Some things I shipped home from Miami as they would have been burdensome to carry out to Saba and back. One of them was a winter coat, keeping with me only a lighter one. A wise choice as when I stepped off the plane in New York it was almost balmy. It was so warm; I almost didn’t need my fleece pullover.
As I rode in the taxi to Penn Station for the train part of the trip, we were held up by road work and I contemplated the extraordinary world in which we live.
My friend, Jan, was afraid I would spend the next four years overflowing with anger at Trump. I’m not. I don’t have the energy for that. Often I am bemused, disgusted, concerned, frightened, surprised, shocked. But not angry. Not yet.
As I was driving in from JFK, I was thinking about his comment in speech yesterday about what happened in Sweden last night. Nothing happened in Sweden last night. Our President baffled an entire nation, wondering if there was something he knew they didn’t. He didn’t. It seems he conflated a Tucker Carlson interview into something that wasn’t – or something like that.
The Swedish Government asked for a clarification and President Trump tweeted that he was referring to a Fox News report about Swedes and immigration and rising crime. But he did say “last night.”
The Swedes are wondering if his tweet was the official response they requested. The State Department hasn’t gotten back to them.
And I wrote about Shep Smith in my last letter, the Fox News anchor of “The Majority Report” taking on the untruthfulness of President Trump. The very thought of anyone at Fox News taking on Donald Trump brings a smile to my face. How could it not?
Alas for them, he has also labelled them as “fake news.” Or maybe it is alas for him? Fox News is the media organ of choice for his base and if they are questioning him…
So, no, I am not angry. Yet. And I am an activist. Our little group, Blue DOT Hudson Indivisible is now up to about two hundred members and growing. We’re demanding accountability from our Representative in Congress, John Faso, and our Senators, Kristin Gillibrand and Charles Schumer. Faso is Republican and Gillibrand and Schumer are Democrats. No one is off the hook here.
It is interesting that historians are listing Obama as the 12th best President in our history. If you’re interested in the list, look here.
Tomorrow, after all, is President’s Day.
There will be a march in DC to say “Not My President,” to let Donald know where he stands with some people.
In New York today, music mogul Russell Simons, once a longtime Trump friend, organized an “I am a Muslim, too” gathering to protest Trump’s positions on his Muslim brothers.
Friends of mine were there. If I had been in the city, I might have been though my discomfort with crowds has grown as I have grown older.
And I am glad I have grown older. It gives me some good perspective. It helps me realize that while I have no children, I do have a responsibility to the next generations. And it is interesting to accept that I have that responsibility.
Tags:Claverack Cottage, Donald Trump, Fox News, I am Muslim too, JFK, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Media, New York, Not My President March, Obama, Penn Station, Politics, Russell Simons, Saba, St. Martin, Sweden, The Donald, Times Square
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