LEARN MORE ABOUT THE WILLS FAMILY THROUGH MARALYS' MEMOIRS: A CIRCUS WITHOUT ELEPHANTS AND A CLOWN IN THE TRUNK

Friday, June 24, 2016

I AM THE SHOOTER!! I'M HERE TO KILL YOU!



I AM THE SHOOTER !!  I’M HERE TO KILL YOU!


Killers don’t wear signs.

Killers don’t broadcast their agenda. 

Mass shooters don’t give you time to prepare—to pull out your gun and warn others to stand back.   

Nobody alerts the police:  “Some guys with guns are good guys.” 

The police finally arrive on the scene and find several people shooting. 

Guess who gets killed? 

Everyone.  

Everyone using a gun.   

Too bad.  Decent, armed citizens don’t wear signs either. “DON’T KILL ME!  I AM THE GOOD GUY!”     


So why does it make sense, as the NRA claims, for ordinary Americans to be out in public packing heat?

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

TRUMPISM--A REVERSION TO PAST HORRORS




TRUMPISM—A REVERSION TO PAST HORRORS


All it took was Orlando, America’s worst possible event, to bring out the vile calumny from the scariest man of our time.   A man who would “take us back,” all right, but not to historical moments that any sane person would welcome.

One of those times I happen to remember well.   

World War II was well underway (and I was about 14),  when two elderly Japanese couples appeared in our Denver home.  I recall how little Mom said about them, and how they never spoke, and how ghost-like they seemed when they wandered our house, so quiet we barely felt their presence. I remember being mesmerized by the way they sat in our kitchen sucking in rice, magically causing it to rise from rice pot to mouth as though on a conveyor belt. Eventually Mom got around to explaining that she’d rescued these couples so they’d never have to go to the nearby internment camps. It was the kind of thing Mom did, with little or no explanation to anyone, including my brother or me. For this alone I will always be grateful that she was, at that time, who she was.  

For more than half a century America has felt shame that it imprisoned the Japanese within its borders . . . even knowing back then that some 62%s were American citizens.    

With enough pressure from people like Trump and yes, Ted Cruz, Americans might be persuaded to “patrol Islamic neighborhoods.” (Here, the imagination falters). Or worse.     

When I first read parts of Trump’s speech today, and how he not-so-subtly besmirched Obama, it reminded me of another bygone era, and someone else’s evil words.  Finally it came to me: the early Fifties and Senator Joe McCarthy.

McCarthyism, defined by Wikipedia, perfectly describes Trump’s behavior: “Demagogic, reckless, and unsubstantiated accusations, as well as public attacks on the character or patriotism of political opponents.” With sly hints and innuendo, this was Trump blaming our president for the events of Orlando. Even suggesting that Obama “knew more than he’s saying,” that he somehow brought them on.    

So Trump wants to take us back to a different world. To the 1940’s, perhaps, with its internment camps for “public enemies?” To Joe McCarthy and his libelous, personal accusations?  To the investigations of the House Un-American Activities Committee, with all the careers and lives they destroyed?

Or does he want to establish his own signature, a personal, “get even” milieu--to inflict on America his distinctive brand of hate, ignorance, and revenge?   

Think about it: Trump isn’t “just another bad man.”  With the millions of followers he’s generated among Americans, he’s a force to take seriously. Meaning he’s downright dangerous.
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For more about those days: My memoir, The Tail on my Mother’s Kite, evokes an era viewed with an equal sense of abandonment, perplexity, and excitement, overlaid by a child’s determination to become a writer. 





Friday, June 3, 2016

A WHOLE COUNTRY GONE MAD



A WHOLE COUNTRY GONE MAD

It’s terrifying, really. 

That an entire nation, including me, is paying rapt attention to the rantings of a carnival barker. 

I admit it, I’m as bad as anyone. I see Trump’s picture, Trump’s name, on the TV or in the newspapers, and I’m instantly alert and immediately reading or watching . . . because he’s so outrageous he’s mesmerizing. What shocking thing will he do next? How has he managed to “out reality” reality TV?   (Which has never been visible in this household. Until now.) 

I’ve practically memorized the man’s evil mouthings: the reporter insulted to his face—in front of other reporters, called “a sleaze”.  The judge, born in Indiana, who happens to be mediating the Trump University lawsuits. Reflexively, our man called him “A Mexican,” as though that was the worst epithet you could drop on anyone.

The outrage goes on, day after day, and scariest of all, a huge chunk of the country takes him seriously, as though he’s actually qualified to be president.  And here comes the part most of us will never understand. What act of his, what statement, what viewpoint emerges from his rants that makes anyone picture him for one minute delivering a State of the Union to Congress, negotiating with world leaders, or holding a thoughtful press conference at a podium outside the White House?   

Honestly, folks, this emperor has no clothes.

I hold myself partly to blame. Unlike Rob, who’s so fed up with the whole process he no longer wants to discuss it, I’m still fixated by the spectacle.  Since when have any of us seen someone like Trump running for the highest office in the land? Maybe in the world? Since when have we viewed such a carnival . . . a series of podiums dominated by what is essentially a naked man?

So what good has come from the huge majority of us—the skeptics? I can think of only two things: more avidly than ever we’ve watched The National News. And we’ve bought a lot of newspapers.