When I was a kid my mother
would write down notes on a pad she kept in the hallway by the kitchen. On the
right side were things she needed to buy when grocery shopping. The left held
appointments. There was one name, and one name only, that struck terror in my fat
little heart: Paula. Paula was our dentist and to this day still causes me dental
PTSD. Paula did not believe in novocaine or anything stronger than oil of
cloves, which still makes me sweat whenever I smell a pumpkin pie baking. Her
office was in an old Victorian house, the kind you see in a Charles Addams
cartoon complete with a round brass doorbell and plaster walls. It was the wait
for that office visit that filled me with dread knowing it was unavoidable and
the excruciating pain that followed that terrorized my childhood.
Like an acid rain waterfall
those same feelings are cascading back down as I wait for January 20th
to arrive. We can plead, protest, and curse until we are blue (or red) in the
face, but he’s still coming. Trump reminds me, too much so, of a Roman emperor
the way he carries himself, his sense of narcissism and his decorum or lack of.
But which emperor is the big question? Will he be an Augustus and find
Washington built with brick and rebuild it in gold-plated Chinese steel? Or
like Hadrian building a wall to keep out whomever he fears the most? Of course
his sons remind me of Caligula, but that doesn’t count does it? Could he be
another Tiberius refusing to live in the capitol? Perhaps Nero who did not
trust his own Praetorian Guard and intelligence community? Whichever one he
turns out to be very few had happy endings. The Roman Empire did last over
1,000 years and the Pax Romana over
one hundred. Will our republic fair better? As the saying goes, those that
don’t know history are doomed to repeat it, while those that do are really,
really depressed.
With the New Year come new
hopes and dreams. At least we want to believe that. Unfortunately, I have some
more bad news. Barnum and Bailey’s Circus is closing for good. They say it is
for humanitarian reasons. This just doesn’t make sense to me. I mean sure I
feel the same way, but why don’t they just buy a bigger car for all those
clowns? Although we no longer have the circus, America still has a lot of great
things to offer. But the greatest thing about America is the garage. Without
the garage there would be no garage band, no startup computer companies, no
teenager trying to change the world. There would be no place to start all those
projects you planned on getting to. Who doesn’t enjoy telling your spouse “if
you need me I’ll be out in the garage fixing something” while you check your
mini-fridge for beer? What about a ‘man-cave’ you ask? Sorry, that’s a casual
Friday version, a hold your purse while you shop answer. No, it’s a space
heater and crappy TV and a barcalounger held together with duct tape for me. I
also hear it’s pretty good for keeping a car in shape when you are ready to sell it
for more than just a ‘great station car’ too. So let us salute the humble
garage. Without it, life in America would be just like the rest of the world. And here’s to hoping we don’t look back at
2016 as the good old days. Now, you will have to excuse me while I go ‘fix the
toaster’.
Below is a self-portrait,
because it’s too cold to paint outdoors and real models expect to be paid. I'm working on my inking in case it wasn't obvious.
