Fire on the Mountain

On my morning commute, I pass the Bethlehem Steel plant. Part of it is still in use, I believe, but it’s mostly a relic of the Rustbelt past. Smoke was billowing out of a large warehouse on the complex as I drove by.  In my rear view mirror, I could see the flames begin to overtake the roof. The old English major in me could not help but take note of the symbolism.  And fear also that it might be foreshadowing.

Like many, I did not see this coming. I had more faith in the electorate.  More faith in our humanity and common decency. I’m sure that sounds harsh to those who supported Trump.  If you were one of those folks, congratulations, I guess.  He’s yours.  You own him.  You’re responsible for him and for whatever he does. That goes for you third party folks too, by the way.

There’s plenty of blame to go around, of course.  The DNC and Wasserman Shultz are near the top of that list.  I voted for Bernie in the primary and Hillary in the general.  This one ain’t on me or anyone in my extended family, for that matter.  But that’s of small consolation right now.  History, in my opinion, will judge us very poorly.  We have a president elect who thinks climate change is a hoax and a vice-president elect who does not believe in evolution.  This is not the future I ever wanted for my kids.  I guess it could be worse.  How would you feel if you were an American Muslim today?  Or gay.  Or “insert your minority here”?

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