Nobody Reads This Page – “Leaving Here”

 

c. 2024 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(11-24)

 

 

The victory on Election Day by Donald J. Trump was an event described as both improbable and historic, by pundits across the nation. These terms were first used in 2016 to detail a mood of shock at his upset of Hillary Clinton. But they resonated even more loudly, today. Every accepted norm about political life in America has seemingly been broken by this controversial figure. He was adored by some on the right, though many of the Republican tribe openly expressed their opposition to his candidacy in 2024. Counterparts across the aisle have perhaps never despised anyone so vigorously. Even Goldwater, Nixon, and George W. Bush, who all drowned in waves of negative opinion, are pale by comparison. The Orange Man evokes hateful, descriptive words such as ‘fascist’ or ‘Nazi’ with great ease. Yet like the creature of a distant Star Trek episode, he feeds on those rebukes. Becoming stronger and more persistent with each confrontation.

 

I expected a tsunami of such emotions to flow, upon the announcement by major news networks that he had won out across our nation. Predictably, it did not take long for swastikas and Klan symbols to appear in posts on social media platforms, tagging him as a demon bent on destroying our safe haven of democracy. But many neighbors and members of my family responded in a different fashion, offering notes of applause and celebration. Notifications on my cell phone chirped away, throughout the wee hours. Cheers and jeers multiplied, as we approached the sunrise on Wednesday morning.

 

I did not support Trump on his quest in any way. So, suffering through a multitude of posts about personal grief over his return felt masochistic. I put my wireless device aside, and reached for a strong cup of coffee. Yet a day later, I noticed that some contacts in the cyber realm were offering details of their plans to exit the nation, altogether.

 

Canada, the United Kingdom, Spain, and even Peru were mentioned as potential destinations.

 

“I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS! I’M DONE WITH AMERIKKKA! VOTERS WILL REGRET THEIR MISTAKE, MARK MY WORDS! MARK MY WORDS!”

 

Even when I flipped the plastic wafer onto a couch pillow, while watching shows on my television’s DVR, the squawking continued.

 

“SCREW THE ANGRY CREAMSICLE! I WON’T HEIL THE FAT-FINGERED FÜHRER! HE CAN GO STRAIGHT TO MAGA HELL!”

 

These protestations echoed inside of my skull for hours beyond the actual closing of polls, and tabulation of results. But eventually, they were joined by the musical beat of a Motown classic from the golden era. A song written by Holland, Dozier and Holland. Released by vocalist Eddie, in 1963.

 

This vintage, vinyl artifact hit the bullseye as I visualized so many associates lining up to emigrate before Trump’s second inauguration.

 

“Hey fellas, have you heard the news?

These girls are tired of being misused

I’ve seen it all in a dream last night

Girls leaving this town ‘cause we don’t treat ‘em right

Oh, they’re catching a train (Catching a train)

Flying a plane (Flying a plane)

Leaving here (Leaving here, leaving)

Leaving here (Leaving here, leaving)

(Leaving here, leaving)

(Leaving here, leaving)

 

Lord, you fellas better change your ways

They’ll be leaving this town in a matter of days

The girls say instead of treatin’ them true

You fellas run around with someone new

Oh, they’re getting tired of it (Sick and tired)

Sick and tired (Leaving here)

(Sick and tired)

(Leaving here)

Oh (Sick and tired)

(Leaving here)

 

The love of a woman is a wonderful thing (Oh yeah)

But the way that we treat ‘em is a crying shame (Oh yeah)

One day, one day, and it won’t be long (Oh yeah)

‘Til all these fine girls’ll be gone (Oh yeah)

Oh, they’re catching a train (Catching a train)

Flying planes (Flying a plane)

Leaving here (Leaving here, leaving)

Two-by-two (leaving here, leaving)

They’ll be leaving you (Leaving here, leaving)

Goodbye boys (Leaving here, leaving)

 

And out the door (Leaving here, leaving)

Change your ways, fellas (Leaving here, leaving)

And start treating ‘em right (Leaving here, leaving)

They’ll be leaving this town (Leaving here, leaving)

 

Catching trains, riding planes (Leaving here, leaving)

Catching trains, riding planes (Leaving here, leaving)

Oh yeah (Leaving here, leaving)

Oh yeah (Leaving here, leaving)

 

 

Oh yeah...”

 

In personal terms, it was hard to imagine finding a confluence of so much money, and so many elites and cultural celebrities, all dedicated to stopping a repeat of woes at the ballot box for their Democratic kin. Trump had been excoriated, impeached twice, raided, indicted, convicted, and nearly assassinated. It literally did not seem possible that a candidate dripping with such disgust and derision could rise again as a person of consequence. But as our leaders have observed repeatedly since revolution birthed this rebel land, ‘The people have spoken.’

 

That cry of an eagle is still echoing, for good, or bad.

 

Harder still to process, was the thought that following the unending migration of immigrants across our southern border, the scales of citizenship might now be balanced by an egress of progressive thinkers and their allies. Could logic defend that kind of abdication? Someone with more experience in the paradigm of governance might be willing to debate the subject. Yet for this writer, a quiet meditation seemed better suited to the moment.

 

I decided to sit on my front porch with a casual brew, and ponder in silence.

 

A childhood lesson in civics and civility came from Grandma McCray, after the election of Richard M. Nixon in 1968. She was a lifelong supporter of working-class ethics, and had often enlightened me with stories about Franklin Delano Roosevelt. So, when this seismic shift in our national leadership occurred, I looked to her with innocent eyes, for guidance and wisdom. She did not urge me to look darkly upon his rise to power. Instead, she offered gentle words that abide with me, even now.

 

“I didn’t vote for that man, Rodney. But remember, he will be president for all the people. We only get one at a time. So, I’ll pray for him, and our country. That is the right thing to do...”

 

Cradling a cool bottle of pilsner in my right hand, while enjoying warm temperatures for November, I wondered out loud. Was it likely that those who chose Kamala Harris as their champion might offer such a petition to the Lord? One asking for mercy and grace to be bestowed? It did not appear to be likely.

 

Still, that leap of faith was easier to imagine than driving a U-Haul truck, all the way to Peru.