Forget politics---eat a hotdog

The Democrats are meeting down the road from my city so traffic is beginning to solidify on the interstates, helicopters are wump-wumping overhead, black SUV’s have suddenly appeared out of nowhere and there is a pork-smelling gas cloud venting out of the Time Warner Cable arena where the presidential nomination is taking place. This is a big deal for Charlotte, which is more accustomed to jazz fests, art jams and public concerts rather than the televised power struggle of a democracy. Me, I’m barefoot.

It’s still summer and red cardinals flutter about while I sip lemonade and decide it’s time others pointed out the pitfalls of leadership and policies. If you don’t have an opinion of where things are going by now then you’ve been living in a mine shaft. I am going to sit on my deck and read a book of American poetry and wait for evening when fireflies come out and my yard becomes a thousand points of light and puts me in awe of nature.

We have billions of dollars in a national electric grid yet a bug the size of a paper clip can have light whenever it wants and never worry about rate increases. To see swarms of lights bob about reminds you of billions of stars and then you realize this is a big universe and that it’s not always about you. Suddenly your mortality hits you over the head like a hammer. Bwwang!

Politics has taken us into decades of debt along with a war against Islam and the people under 25 are going to pay the price and they are, like uh, you know, okay with that so long as they can text each other. They walk around proud of a new tattoo and have no idea that “government deficient” means they will never be able to retire. You tell them the Chinese own us and they say, “Chill, dude”.

But I won’t be fighting this war because, I am, you know, like, 59. Really, I am 59 years old and with enough Zantac and Zolof I’ll continue to grow old and I hope you will still love me and you will still feed me when I’m 64.

I’m lucky. If the ice caps melt the ocean will not wash away my car. No tsunamis can reach my doorstep and besides none of my friends are penguins. If Pakistan gets mad and shoots a bomb over here do you think that they are really going to drop it on Statesville no they are not. So chill, dude.

Politics plays havoc with this great nation but the United States will always be around in one form or another. Cities may flood and crumble and we may have to hire security men with machine guns mounted on small pickup trucks to escort us to Food Lion and back but we’ll be here. Somewhere a boy will still fall in love with a girl and they will believe in a future.

I recently saw a young teenage couple walk out of a hotdog eatery. He carried the food, she had the napkins and they had one drink. Both sat down side by side on a bench and fed each other, sipped out of the same straw and occasionally laughed and giggled. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek causing him to put his arm around her shoulders and draw her close. Suddenly politics is small potatoes.

Forget deficits and mandated health care. Find someone that makes you happy, hold their hand, buy them a hot dog and let the fireflies light up your night.

There are rules, so follow them, okay?

This is an awesome country to live in and one of its special beauties is freedom of expression which seems to be getting freer every day. Also Fall is near and this makes for a general happiness wherever you go. It’s impossible to brood with the air full of anticipation for bright colored leaves, crisp cold mornings and thick warm stews.

I’ve been traveling lately and was in Wilmington, NC where I saw the young and flat bellied hold hands and stroll along a river walk past downtown pubs and restaurants. A soft breeze carries the scent of flowers, street musicians play acoustic guitars and you catch whiffs of cooked onions and peppers mixed with the smell of salty ocean air-- a perfect moment. Suddenly you have a heightened sense of optimism. You smile.

But on TV liberals and angry conservatives accuse each other of playing politics (really?) but you don’t run into this in everyday life as you walk through a mall or stop at the Quick Store for the rest room or gas. You’re not approached by angry people demanding you fix the economy.

Of course Facebook is full of old grumblers wailing about the fall of the country or weight gain and threaten to take you off their list of friends if you don’t reply to their demand to confirm your friendship. You can only shrug at all this—like walking across a rug and building up static electricity. Sure you get a slight shock, but it doesn’t turn on the house lights.

As one of my lunch friends likes to say, “So, what have we learned from all this?” Well, we’ve learned that Wall Street execs are so full of greed and dishonesty that it makes the Mafia look like sweet old men in frumpy clothes. We learned that elected governors will canoodle with the household help and some will travel as far as Argentina for a mistress. A state representative in Minnesota trolls craigslist looking for sex from young boys and gets caught. He thinks perhaps he should not run for re-election but feels duty bound to public service. Say what?

All this bad behavior ( yes, this is called BAD behavior) creates a yearning to go back and embrace virtues and values that when we were young we thought terribly dull---look where you’re going, feed the dog, don’t be a jerk, wait your turn, say please and thank you, pay your bills and hang onto your friends because one day nobody may remember what they liked about you other than now it’s become a habit. We learn life has some basic rules---so just follow them, okay?

Sensible rules, courtesy and virtues like modesty, integrity and a work ethic are the foundation of a good society. But when we bail out dishonest businesses and excuse bad behavior we lower the bar.

The young shrug at all of this. Sociologists now call this the “deviation of normalcy”. The young have been exposed to this ugliness so long they think it’s normal.

They’ve eaten processed food for years and have no idea what a homemade biscuit tastes like. An entire generation has lined up at a drive through window and accepted whatever came out. They’ve been raised on the biscuits that McDonald’s, Hardee’s or Bojangle's sells, tasty, but nevertheless doughy attempts to mimic your mothers’ cooking and now it’s all they know.

The young accept apathy and artificiality—they know nothing else. But once you know what a real homemade biscuit tastes like you’re never really satisfied with anything less.

Let’s get back to basics, follow the rules---maybe make some biscuits.