I’m angry at myself for being angry.   My parasite; my ego; are fighting hard to eat me alive.   I took a bike ride to clear my head.   It’s the middle of January and the weather is clear and 65 degrees.   It’s beautiful.  I’m actually writing outside at the patio table with a cigar.    The bike ride gave me a bit of space to observe my anger.   Anger at what exactly?  Myself?  The constant strain of human injustice?  The trump supporters who stormed the capital?   Why do I hate trump supporters?   Something came to me during my ride.  The thought was this …“There but for the grace of God” that I’m not a Trump supporter.  Really?  Really.

My earlier life was tribal with a patriarch as the head of the tribe.   Tribal elders held the same beliefs as the patriarch.   The tribe was quite conservative in its beliefs.  That included its politics and its view of the world.   Liberal ideas were not looked upon in a favorable light.   I grew up hearing that Franklin Roosevelt “screwed this country”.   His name was never pronounced Roosevelt but instead he was always “Roosenfelt”.   The Kennedy’s were the Fucking Kennedy’s.   The word liberal was most often accompanied by a retching sound.   When conservative media came out, Rush was on our radio and the Fox channel was on the TV.  

At weekly tribal gatherings politics was often discussed by the elders.  The patriarch held court at the head of the table.  He (they), expounded on how liberals were the root cause of all their troubles.   As a young tribal member, I was expected to listen but not engage while the elders conversed.   I was a good member of the tribe.  I was a quiet follower.

I came of age voting for conservatives.   My first vote was during the 1976 presidential election.  Jimmy Carter vs Gerald Ford.   I did not vote for Carter.  I voted for the Republican, Gerald Ford.   In the tribe you were expected to vote Republican.    Democrats had held a strong hold on congress and it was important to get those “liberal mother fuckers out of office”.   The patriarch was a member of the NRA.   I was a member of the NRA.   Nixon did nothing wrong.   Rush was speaking for us, the quiet majority.   Within the tribe, it was common to hear about the “others” that were “ruining their world”.   Blacks.  Jews.  Mexicans.   The words I often heard to describe the “others” were niggers, kik’s and spics.  In our tribal world, these groups were the cause for our low economic status.   Opportunities to live the good middle-class life were out of reach due to these “others”.   They were to blame for all their missed opportunities.

When several tribal members were in their late teens, they started to question the tribal elders.   They asked why believe what they believed?    When the answers were unsatisfactory, they pressed harder.   At first, the tribal elders treated these inquiries as the un-informed thoughts of youth.   But there came a time when the questioning turned to challenges.   Family gatherings became tense.   I was a good member.  I stayed quiet while the few tried to battle the elders concerning the beliefs of the tribe.   Soon after, large tribal gatherings faded away.   The patriarch still held court for smaller gatherings but the dialogue was more of the same.   There was nothing more to learn. 

By my late teens I still had no voice but I felt something wasn’t right about all this.  I lived in a very small world.   Wasn’t there more to it?   When I got into college, I started to have strong feelings centered on one reoccurring thought.   Get away!   Get far away from this tribe!

In college I had courses and met people who had ideas and opinions much different than the members of the tribe.   When I finished college and took jobs close to the tribe, the idea of “get away” never left me.   It kept getting stronger.   It was so strong that I promised myself to get away at any cost.   It was to be my first mantra.

When a job opportunity came up that took me a few hours from home I ran to it.  But it was still not far enough away.   I was still close enough where the expectation was to come home.  When I did, the tribe had not changed.  It was actually getting worse especially from other young tribal members who were now making a home and family in the tribal zone.

Then it happened.   A chance to “get far enough away”.   2,000 miles away from the tribe and its hold on me.   I got away.  With distance and time I started to develop as an individual and not as just another tribal member.   It felt great.  It was liberating.   It was truly heaven.   I broke free of the collected consciousness of the tribe.  It was an awakening.   The ideas of the tribe were petty and shortsighted.  Based on the dribble of conservative news.   I finally saw that the government that the tribe railed against was actually taking care of them.   All of the older tribal members came to depend on Medicare and Social Security.   Liberal policies put in place by “Roosenfelt”.   I saw that they payed homage to the Gods who they called “Real Men”; John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, and Ernst Hemingway.  They lived in world of illusion.      

I opened up to befriending people who had traveled the world (not just read about it), who had life experiences (other than the one year they spent abroad in WWII).  They included blacks, and Jews, and Mexicans as well as people from the middle-east.   I truly saw the horror of the myopic world of the tribe.   And this was especially true of the patriarch. 

In a ten year period, the patriarch died.   Most tribal elders died.   They died from cancers and ulcers.   I believe they died from their narrow minded conservative beliefs.   And as for their progeny, the ones who remained in the tribal territory, they still carry on the beliefs of the elders “in honor of the elders”.  Most are trump supporters. 

Distance.   Time.   Being open to new experiences.   Developing relationships with people from all walks of life.   Reading a multitude of books on various topics.  A bit of travel.     And listening to media that make me think.  All helped me to become the non-tribal person I am in this moment. 

If I had never left the tribe, I would probably be a Trumper.   Just like the people who stayed “home”.     I get you.   You who are angry at the government.   Upset that the liberals are taking over, taking away your guns.   Treading on your liberties.   Listening to Rush and Fox news and adsorbed in right wing social media.   I get it.   But for “The Grace of God”, I would be one of you.