c. 2017 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(6-17)
I often think of
dumping all of my social media accounts.
It is a notion
particularly driven by visits to Facebook. A place where recipes
abound. Where silly ‘memes’ offer a bit of chewing gum for the
brain. Where cell phones shine their ability to capture odd photos
with impunity. Though I enjoy the site for sharing family news, music
videos, post-war culture references, car or motorcycle trivia and
miscellaneous thoughts about everything from gardening to old movies,
other vibes undeniably kill the satisfaction. Ugly words, offered
without much forethought, throw shade on the experience of real-time
interaction. They dim the appeal of what is literally an incredible
network that potentially connects the world’s citizens as one.
Today, June 14th,
was another of these moments.
Before I had even
heard about the shooting at a baseball game involving Republican
members of Congress, my FB feed was overloaded with partisan rhetoric
about gun control. Along with slurs directed at the White House. And,
the inevitable response from others who pointed out that the
assailant, now dead, was a Bernie Sanders supporter and long-time
critic of President Trump, along with the GOP in general.
These ‘First
Responders’ had me reaching for the TV remote while searching with
my smartphone for clues to what had actually transpired.
To be clear, such
posts on Facebook have become so commonplace that I typically scroll
along without paying too much attention. Some ‘friends’ simply
repeat party-line and clubhouse dogma, which becomes boring over time
with its sameness. A few others, incredibly, call for a military coup
to overthrow our government. Not something I would expect out of
people who identify themselves as being ‘progressive’ in nature.
One fellow in my list openly demands that Trump be assassinated,
almost on a daily basis. The counterpoint is just as pervasive –
supporters of the current administration who call for action and
cheer the courage of their reality television hero. Even as he twists
and turns with self-defeating impulsiveness.
Today, I could not
scroll by these comments.
With only hours
having passed since the bullets were flying in Alexandria, Virginia,
I wondered how it was possible that some brief period could not be
rationed out for quiet introspection. For pondering and careful
consideration about what had happened. To offer thanks that the event
had not been even more severe. To pray for those who were wounded. To
mourn such a horror being perpetrated by a lone, misguided soul who
met death in the end.
On FB there was no
waiting period. The ‘keyboard warriors’ were out in scores.
Marching to the drumbeat of rancor and partisanship. I imagined that
before nightfall, it was likely someone would claim that this tragic
happening was in reality a ‘false flag’ attack. One designed to
prop up Mr. Trump’s declining poll numbers, while doing harm to the
reputation of the Democratic Party. Elsewhere, we would be assured
that this action authentically came as part of a master plan drafted
by Madame Clinton, herself. The catcalls and dog whistles were nearly
audible, even before they had begun to resound.
I needed relief.
My index finger
literally hovered over the ‘delete’ icon. With one swift action,
I could rid myself of this rowdy invention. This
‘Road-To-Hell-Paved-With-Good-Intentions’ technology. The
temptation to take my leave was nearly overwhelming. I wanted nothing
more than to catch my breath.
To have a sort of
‘Brexit’ for myself.
Memories echoed as I
sat at my computer. Of beloved family members, long gone to their
final rest. I could not imagine how they would cope with a phenomenon
like social media. But their words of wisdom lingered. When President
Nixon was elected in 1968, my maternal side of the family did not
endorse his rise to power. They were, by tradition, Democrats,
dyed-in-the-wool. Of the true ‘Yellow Dog’ variety. Humble
laborers. Grateful and faithful to America and Jesus Christ. Yet
their respect for our nation brought scolding for those who refused
this unpopular man. “He is our leader,” they would observe. “Pray
for him, and for our country.”
For them, the only
genuine victory was at the ballot box, not through violence. Or
through the squawking of angry voices.
Our modern world has
capabilities that would have been the stuff of science fiction in
that bygone era. And no one could have imagined a chief executive so
undisciplined and difficult to follow as Donald Trump, almost fifty
years ago. But the idea that we should take a moment to grieve, to
hug family and friends, to be glad for life… that does not seem
outrageous.
Indeed, today, it
seems indispensable.
Comments or
questions about ‘Words on the Loose’ may be sent to:
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