A Long Blurt: Understanding the Trump Cult.

I admit, try as I might, I never could understand how so many are swept up in the Cult of Trump and now I finally do - I finally do, and it scares the bejesus out of me. For if it could happen here, in the microcosm that is my world, it could happen anywhere.

My building has 49 apartments with approximately 55 tenants. All of us are seniors ranging in age from 65 to 90+, independent, self-cooking, self-feeding and self-bathing and -dressing.

The building was purchased last September by a very well known charitable organization. I have donated to them in the past as they help so many disadvantaged and have a stellar reputation. As you know, I was elected Chair of the Tenants’ Committee.

So the manager of the building was fired. We are not privy to the reasons and we shouldn’t be as he is an employee of the building owners (who have at least 500 employees). It would be a breach of confidentially.

He has been allowed to stay on here in his reduced rent apartment until he finds another position. Which is more than fair.

Since his firing last week he has gone around the building summoning support for a petition requesting his re-hire as he has been treated so unfairly.

I overheard a few of his conversations with fellow tenants, he has threatened some and yelled at others and monitors the notice board in the lobby all day and night dragging tenants over and hovering over them as they sign.

I have asked the committee not to get involved in this as the full picture is unknowable at this point and our new owners would certainly have grounds to dismiss him. (I know of a few of his transgressions, learned on the grapevine).

The answers from the 66% (so far) who have signed are:

(1) He’s a wonderful kind man and it’s appalling how they are treating him

(2) They were forcing him to do jobs that wasn’t part of his agreement (they’re not)

(3)They told him he had lied on this application about being computer literate.

(4) They’re saying he went AWOL and we know that’s not true (it is)

(5) They’re saying he wasn’t out of his pajamas before noon and watched TV all day and that’s not true (it is)

And on it goes. The man should have been canonized long ago.

I have no idea how it will all go down But I did phone one of the board today to give them a heads up on the confrontation the tenants have planned. The adversarial discord in the building. The glares those who didn't sign up are getting. Some on the committee have caved under the pressure. 

I felt it only fair to warn them. As this board is truly amazing on what they are planning for here (and have secured funding for). And I just know they would never dismiss anyone without just cause. And this “saint” of a man has definitely given them many.

And it really hit me, as I mull all of this over, this is Trumpville. The truth doesn’t matter but let us hang my hat on a cause and be part of this wonderful cult.

Please.

Exile

 

Exile

Definition

“the state of being barred from one's native country, typically for political or punitive reasons.” 

I would add "religious."

I am an exile from Ireland. I have been so for fifty six years.

It’s a strange word, exile.

Me, I left because of religious intolerance – which infected entire families – of a woman/girl who became pregnant outside of holy matrimony. Back then, if this happened, there were three choices for a woman in that condition.

(1) Get married if the fellah was honourable and didn’t vanish or deny his responsibility. A choice not available to raped women or girls who were blamed for their condition and were now “spoiled” and deemed unmarriagable for any decent man.

(2)Be incarcerated in a Mother and Baby Home, run by nuns, giving birth in agony (suffering being a reparation for carnal sins committed) and then have the baby whisked away immediately and sold to a decent Catholic family in the U.S.

(3)Become a slave for life in the infamous Magdalene Laundries, mocked, beaten, demeaned and the baby yanked and sold immediately post birth.

 (4)Emigrate to the UK, Australia, South Africa or Canada.

I chose options 1 and 4. I was twenty three years old.

To be pregnant and getting married (in a side chapel away from the prying eyes of relatives and friends who would be counting the months) was no joyful event. Disgusted judgment would be wrought upon the family of the bride for raising such a tramp. Fathers would forbid the errant daughter from darkening their doorway so the neighbours could observe their disapproval as would her siblings as a signal as to what could happen to them.

I hid my condition from everyone. I was, luckily, tall and carried high.

My wedding was a grand affair. Absolutely no one knew of my four month’s pregnancy and the Canadian Embassy blessed my potential emigration with free passage to my new country along with free rent on an apartment until we “settled in.” Many employment positions were lined up as Canada was in need of more bodies in the work force. Economically then, Ireland was dismal.

Shortly after the wedding we vamoosed on the SS Carinthia.

The SS Carinthia.

Standing on that deck, looking down at the tender taking my grieving family back to Cobh Harbour, I finally realized why it was known as the “Irish Wake”

Cobh - also the last port of call of the Titanic.

I didn’t cry. I turned my face to look west, to the new land that awaited me with open arms.

I had exiled myself and my little one to Canada.