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It hurts. Fractures generally do. The first one happened accidentally, way back when I was a kid, and there have been a couple of relatively minor but painful ones in the intervening half-century. But the one that hurts the worst is the present one, because this fracture was deliberately caused. And the pain is sufficient to make me wish that bones were involved instead of family.
Sadly, there is no medical procedure to bring the broken pieces back into alignment. There is no plaster or fiberglass cast to protect any mending. Unlike bones, these familial shards have to be willing to mend; some are, others are not. And there is no forcing the issue.
In spite of the old saw that “misery loves company,” there is absolutely no consolation in knowing that so many families are enduring the same fracturing. Indeed, our national family seems to have been targeted for systematic sundering. Why?
At this point it might be a good idea to mention what’s behind these sentiments. This current spell was triggered by, of all things, my failing computer. It’s running out of memory and is losing some functions as it does so. First it quit talking to the printer. Then it quit taking instruction from the mouse, and the cursor tends to just get up and wander around on its own until I can find a way to nail it down. And that’s what happened when I forwarded a blog article to my list of friends of like political mind. While chasing the cursor I accidentally clicked my youngest brother’s address.
Now, my older brother is on that political list along with my sister; but younger brother is the one with whom there is no possibility of conversation about politics. Old Bro is a veteran who served three tours in Vietnam. Young Bro retired from the Navy after a long and honorable service. We were all raised in an ardently Republican home. We all registered to vote as soon as we came of age, it was expected of us. It was also expected that we would register as Republicans if for no other reason than to keep a semblance of peace in Dad’s house.
My own affiliation changed about as soon as I got out on my own. My sister has always had a heart for people and community that would be scoffed at in today’s GOP.
Old Bro is the one that was hard to watch in transition; I don’t think he’s ever voted for anyone just on the basis of party, but he was always inclined toward the Republican platform. But when this mess started in Iraq (post 9-11) he’d had enough. This big bear of a man cries when the news gives the latest casualty figures. He can no longer stand to watch Bush or listen to him speak, because he holds him responsible for every single death in Iraq. He voted for Bush in 2000 and is now a registered Democrat, participating as much as he possibly can. He is furious that Bush is literally getting away with murder.
Conversely, Young Bro is hardcore far-far right Republican. He bears little similarity to the little brother I thought I knew. He’d always been a gentle soul, so none of us were in the least surprised when he was ordained to the ministry. That’s part of why we have all been so stunned by his blatant idolatry when it comes to Reagan. When I objected to the swiftboaters, he claimed that my support of Kerry was demeaning to his own military service (and I have yet to figure that out!). He speaks in talking points, thinks Hannity and O’Reilly are good people, and is sick and tired of hearing about how evil Bush is. So when he received the accidentally forwarded article (about voting machine problems), he blew a gasket.
After the 2004 election, we had simply agreed to disagree; but we also confirmed our family bond. We’ve had a period of détente since then, but it was apparently too fragile. It shattered at the merest tap from a disobedient cursor. He’s back to the “don’t talk to me unless...” routine. Back to the stance that only his side of the aisle gets to make the rules and set the vocabulary. Back to insisting on black and white with nothing in between, ever. And I’m back on the shit list.
So. Back to the idea that these family fights are manufactured. In truth, I don’t know that anybody had this particular damage in mind. But its occurrence is simply too widespread to be merely coincidental. It could well be unanticipated collateral damage in the effort to keep our national family distracted and disengaged from other matters; if I’m busy putting out the fire in the garage I might not notice the thief in the parlor, right? And people do tend to apply attention to pain and the efforts to relieve it. Few pains hurt worse than family pain, it’s a very compelling distraction, very effective in the arsenal of those seeking to divide and conquer and pillage.
But enough is enough. Some things are worth holding onto, despite the pain. I want my brother back. I want my family whole again. I want my country back, along with the Constitution. Our national family needs to heal. We need a major family reunion.
So how does January 20th work for everyone?
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