Open Letter to my family member who is a Trumpie and a Scorpion
Part of Dora’s Travesty of Justice series
The two of us (I will call you Alec) had a pleasant conversation about the news of the day. This conversation led to the three recent cases centered around firearms. You suggested that one of the cases did not serve justice during our recent conversation regarding the murders in Wisconsin, Georgia, and Michigan. I agreed. You became verbally abusive and it degraded from there.
I commented that the parents (Jennifer and James Crumbley) and their 15 year old (Ethan Crumbley) who killed four students were Trumpies. You further yelled at me that Trump supporters are not Trumpies. You admitted that Ethan should not have taken a gun to school or killed other people, but failed to consider that Jennifer and James beliefs could have been aligned to the teachings of our previous president. You unsuccessfully showed me that I misunderstand who Trump is. During this conversation, I discovered last Friday that you are a radicalized Trump supporter disguised as an Independent. You verbally attacked any differing discussions I was inclined to enter, showing me that my beliefs did not matter and that I should be ashamed, but I do not share your utterances.
I believe in free thought and sharing beliefs. Over the years, you never proclaimed any political beliefs except to consistently admit your dislike of Donald J. Trump. You told me Friday that are proud of Trump’s presidency and you accused me of not concurring. Your anger and hostility is now directed only at me. I now care about your radical beliefs because of your actions.
I recently nominated Walter Rhein for a Golden Story in Be Open for My Narcissistic Father’s Collection of Pornograpy Was an Insult to my Mother. His response regarding his story was chilling and unfortunately true, “You know, this story is just another facet of treating each other with basic decency. It’s stunning how much resistance you run into when you try to spread that message.” I struggle with this also especially with my quest for justice in Dora’s Series.
I thought that this poem would help give us an interesting appreciation of Frenemies and the lack of treating others with kindness.
The Tale of the Scorpion and Tortoise by David Rakoff
The scorpion was hamstrung, his tail all aquiver;
just how would he manage to get across the river?
The water’s so deep, he observed with a sigh,
which pricked at the ears of the tortoise nearby.
Well why don’t you swim? asked the slow-moving fellow,
unless you’re afraid. I mean, what are you, yellow?
It isn’t a matter of fear or of whim,
said the scorpion,
but that i don’t know how to swim
Ah, forgive me. I didn’t mean to be glib when
I said that. I figured you were an amphibian.
No offense taken, the scorpion replied,
but how about you help me to reach the far side?
You swim like a dream, and you have what I lack.
Let’s say you take me across on your back?
I’m really not sure that’s the best thing to do,
said the tortoise, now that I see that it’s you.
You’ve a less than ideal reputation preceding:
there’s talk of your victims all poisoned and bleeding.
You’re the scorpion — and how can I say this — but, well,
I just don’t feel safe with you riding my shell.
The scorpion replied, “What would killing you prove?
We’d both drown, so tell me: how would that behoove
me to basically die at my very own hand
when all I desire is to be on dry land?
The tortoise considered the scorpion’s defense.
When he gave it some thought, it made perfect sense.
The niggling voice in his mind he ignored,
and he swam to the bank and called out: Climb aboard!
But just a few moments from when they set sail,
the scorpion lashed out with his venomous tail.
The tortoise too late understood that he’d blundered
when he felt his flesh stabbed and his carapace sundered.
As he fought for his life, he said, tell me why
you have done this! For now we will surely both die!
I don’t know! cried the scorpion. You never should trust
a creature like me because poison I must!
I’d claim some remorse or at least some compunction,
but I just can’t help it; my form is my function.
You thought I’d behave like my cousin, the crab,
but unlike him, it is but my nature to stab.
The tortoise expired with one final quiver.
And then both of them sank, swallowed up by the river.
The tortoise was wrong to ignore all his doubts —
because in the end, friends, our natures win out.
Alec, I will not let you on my back, my Scorpion.
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