Imperfect Vision
How many stories will be written about the implications of entering 2020? I suspect they will be many and they will carry on throughout the coming year. I will even anticipate a whole spate of stories about leaving 2020 behind symbolically. I just wish all the analogies and metaphors were justified. Any implication that the future is clear and readable in this messy world we live in is naive. The stock market is hitting record highs despite all the news of ballooning deficits exceeding $1 trillion for the current fiscal year and the detrimental evidence just released by the Fed about how badly hurt the U.S. economy has been by the reckless Trump tariff program. Some may take solace from that, I take trepidation as the principle message. I should like the asset appreciation as a fixed-income pensioner. But if Trump gains strength through failed Democrat bungling of the impeachment trial, the market will recognize sooner or later that Trump’s economic plan is lacking in both wisdom and long term substance. If Trump loses ground to righteousness, reality or just solid campaigning by his ultimate Democrat rival, the market will start to worry about their short-term tax-paying prospects. And if things just tuck up tight for a knock-down drag-out slugfest with Trump and Mr./Ms. Wonderful on the opposing ticket, the world will witness the Ununiting of the States of America as we tear ourselves apart as a people. The fear of a next civil war is not as far-fetched as we all hope.
I do have to set this in the context of a piece in the New York Times that outlines why the human race is in the best place it has ever been. Child mortality down to its lowest ever. Poverty and starvation down to their lowest ever. Major diseases mostly down to their lowest ever or completely eradicated. Illiteracy at all time lows. In general, this is supposedly the best time in human history to be alive. That is what makes this all so hard. It truly is the best of times while seeming to be on the verge of the worst of times.
The view from these cheap seats is not pleasant. I am as worried about winning badly as I am about losing. I have moved to the Republic of California, which may be a salvation, but I have a front row seat on the red/blue divide here in San Diego, not to mention a view of the Mexican border and all that means in the coming wars for economic dominance and racial identity. John Carpenter in his Escape from New York had it wrong. In 1981 the vision for 1997 was of a New York as undesirable as could be with criminals hanging on every street corner. It was so bad it was walled off from civilized society. New York has become the eponymous urban destination where everyone wants to visit yet no one (or at least very few) can afford to reside. John Carpenter take note, the real danger zone is not New York City and it isn’t just this side of the border wall either. The new battle ground is Wichita and the like.
I choose Wichita because Rachel Maddow describes it as ground zero in the pro-life/pro-choice war. I once wrote a story about the horrors of Lagos Nigeria, where there were no hotels safe enough for visitors (this was 1988). Well, Wichita seems to be a town that isn’t safe enough for an abortion clinic or a doctor to practice therein. This is the state where Trump is willing to give up his Secretary of State (arguably the second most important office in a political administration…even though not at all so in the Trump/Giuliani Bizarro world) in order to preserve a key senate seat. Pompeo is deemed necessary to defeat the upstart Democratic contenders in the land of Carry Nation, where both prohibition and arguably women’s suffrage were born. This has become the true American battleground of 2020 where swinging an axe in a saloon is the way to make a point about temperance.
I have been temperate for years, but now I must aim towards changing my lifestyle in 2020. I am leaving the Big Apple and choosing to be within arm’s reach of oranges instead (we have several citrus trees outside our kitchen door). The oranges, lemons, limes and kumquats outside our door are pure Southern California even though I don’t plan to claim a fruit orchard-growing tax credit (you only need five trees to qualify). I want to interact with the whole world differently in 2020. No more business power-strokes. I’ve had a yelling snit over the phone twice this week already (its only Monday). That’s a certain form of intemperance. I’ve had my fill of control and money games. Enough may never be enough when it comes to money (there are always more unexpected expenses than one can count), but enough can certainly be too much when it comes to doing battle in business. My son asked me last week what my New Years resolution was likely to be. The question caught me flat-footed. But no doubt my resolve must be to make this transition more in demeanor than in fruit.
My vision, according to my ophthalmologist (an old College friend who practices in the real world part of Brooklyn) has, for the first time in my life, come to be 20/20 and street-legal. I sense this condition is fleeting, and in a few years I’m sure the California DMV will be giving me a hard time anyway. But for the moment, I’m 20/20 for 2020 and my ability to see near, far or into the future seems like it should border on the prescient, but not so. This move west has unsettled my sense of what the future holds for us. It’s not me or Kim I worry about, but more those around me and the world at large. I find my empathy meter going twitchy. I hear stories of suffering and hardship and I begin wringing my hands. I worry about why the world has turned so harsh and uncaring. I find I simply don’t understand those on the red side of the divide. I don’t understand rampant self-interest. I can’t fathom the harsh narrow-minded nationalist thinking that drives people to their own insular corners, glaring out at all who are different..
Today I spent a moment talking to the woman who has cleaned this house for longer than the eight years we have owned it. She is Hispanic and a well-spoken businessperson who mobilizes a team of ten or so young Hispanic women who smilingly clean our house in a whirlwind of activity. They remind me of that scene from Cinderella when the birds and small forrest animals rush around in song fixing things for Cinderella’s visit to the prince’s ball. I have always been impressed by her professionalism, but today I was more impressed by her compassion. She took a moment as I wrote her a check to ask about my brother-in-law who is undergoing his first bout of chemotherapy and having the usual uncomfortable side-effects. It seems she had her own cancer trials two years ago and was very aware of the suffering he was going through. Her strength and optimism caused her to be equally optimistic on his behalf. This is a hard-working woman who sees nothing but good in the future. She talked about how much she liked cleaning our house because of the uplifting distant views. It made me realize that all my concerns for 2020 are for naught. There will always be issues, but if you keep your eyes on the stars instead of the mud, the imperfect vision of the world will fade to light.
Thank you