I was walking my dog on the beach in the tiny beach town that has been my home for going on 28 years. The surf was up and the waves were crashing. My big old 90 pound Lab, Wilbur was off the leash on this “dog Beach” and following his nose in a euphoric state of sniffing, peeing and cocking. He sometimes lags far behind, obsessed with a scent left in a clump of seaweed or kelp, and then lumbers to catch up, eyes sparkling, tongue hanging. For years I have taken this path and always locals or tourists greet each other while the dogs halt to inspect and sniff and move on, busy with their agendas.
A scene of utter tranquility and joy.
But not on this day. Today things were different, and I admit I was edgy. I had began to doubt friends of mine who had voted for Trump and wondered at their humanity, and if I could ever be friends with them again for voting for such a bigoted hate monger, and I didn't want to hear their case of distrust and hatred of Hillary, because no public figure on a political platform in our time has garnered and deserved more contempt and loathing than our president elect, Donald Trump.
I was ambling along, on my way back after traversing close to a mile, when I saw them coming—the very same couple whose over-sized luxury cars and giant pickups were emblazoned with Donald Trump stickers, whose yard in one of the few mansion-like estates in town sported “Jail Hillary” and “Make America Great Again” signs. Word was they were newcomers and billionaires, already at odds with building restrictions and county officers, armed with lawyers quick to sue.
They stood together, man and wife, holding onto their leashed 100 pound pedigree, who began barking, as Wilbur passed me and edged up cautiously to their other unleashed 70 pound pedigree, who edged up to Wilbur, both their tails wagging very, very slowly. I felt they would be fine as long as both were off the leash. I have never witnessed a serious dogfight on this or any beach in well over a decade. Dogs large and small get along. I petted the 70 pounder on the head, scratched his ears. Then the woman, whose face seemed misshapen from perhaps too many botox injections or plastic surgeries, commanded me to put Wilbur on my leash. I ignored her. The man took the leashed and frantically barking and growling dog from the wife and ordered me in firm terms to put my dog on the leash. His face was filled with an expression I felt was used to ordering people around—or else! I told them that the dogs would get along, and to just leave them alone.
But the dogs began to get nervous as the couple continued to yell at me in an increasing frenzy to leash my dog. Dogs always react to their owners. They also react to other dog owners who yell or threaten their masters. Happy friendly owners breed happy friendly dogs. Now the vibrations were bad, provoking my instant inclination to rebel against anybody ordering or commanding and finally screaming at me to do something instead of asking. I don't even mind being asked in a supercilious way, because at least you ARE asking. And of course they were not the kind of people I wished to have ordering me around, like they owned the beach, like they were used to abusing those dressed in rags with an old rag-tag dog who loved everybody and only wanted to make friends.
When their unleashed dog, a male, sneered, Wilbur went after him, and a brief tiff occurred, Wilbur quickly pouncing in a wild growl and overwhelming and cowing the dog, and now the couple were fairly screaming at me to leash Wilbur, whom I had by the collar and began pulling away. As they screamed at me, the couple, perhaps fifty years old or less, displayed faces fueled with outrage and damnation at the sight of me and my dog, and, since starting yoga, and being 73, I have refrained for some time from losing my vile Russian heritage temper against those I deem having it coming to them.
But something in me snapped. I hated these people, and everything they represent in this suddenly new country I no longer love, the country I served for three years in the army that I find impossible to now love, or even like, this country that has become a disgrace, full of mean-spirited racist haters, and I told the woman to “shut her fucking mouth and the husband to shut his fucking mouth” and stepped forward shaking my fist while my own dog lowered his head in fear of his master going totally apeshit.
I was quivering, my voice something I did not recognize, my breath going short, heart pumping furiously, and suddenly I was light-headed, but it did not matter, what I wanted to do was punch the living shit out of both these people, because to me they are not fellow Americans, but the enemy, to be thwarted and defied and punished from this point on, nonstop, 24/7, just like these white bigots who went after Obama, until they are driven from office and squelched from our country while it still has a soul, and ultimately driven from civilization, while it still exists.
We can get into the specifics later in this class warfare (the trampling of democracy by capitalism, global warming, voting rights, guns, wars, etc.) but for now I needed to unleash in a totally uncalled for irrational non yoga rage, filled with savage venom at the enemy, just so, after I calmed down, I could see their shocked frozen faces resulting from a member of the lowest classes on the socio-economic ladder of America having them where he wanted them, without body guards or lawyers, and scaring the living beJesus out of their billionaire asses with a volcanic salvo that must have been blood-curdling.
A small thing, perhaps a tiny shred of revenge against the mountain of grievances to be faced in the new hating America I can no longer stomach, but already I feel better.
PS. Wilbur kicked ass!
A scene of utter tranquility and joy.
But not on this day. Today things were different, and I admit I was edgy. I had began to doubt friends of mine who had voted for Trump and wondered at their humanity, and if I could ever be friends with them again for voting for such a bigoted hate monger, and I didn't want to hear their case of distrust and hatred of Hillary, because no public figure on a political platform in our time has garnered and deserved more contempt and loathing than our president elect, Donald Trump.
I was ambling along, on my way back after traversing close to a mile, when I saw them coming—the very same couple whose over-sized luxury cars and giant pickups were emblazoned with Donald Trump stickers, whose yard in one of the few mansion-like estates in town sported “Jail Hillary” and “Make America Great Again” signs. Word was they were newcomers and billionaires, already at odds with building restrictions and county officers, armed with lawyers quick to sue.
They stood together, man and wife, holding onto their leashed 100 pound pedigree, who began barking, as Wilbur passed me and edged up cautiously to their other unleashed 70 pound pedigree, who edged up to Wilbur, both their tails wagging very, very slowly. I felt they would be fine as long as both were off the leash. I have never witnessed a serious dogfight on this or any beach in well over a decade. Dogs large and small get along. I petted the 70 pounder on the head, scratched his ears. Then the woman, whose face seemed misshapen from perhaps too many botox injections or plastic surgeries, commanded me to put Wilbur on my leash. I ignored her. The man took the leashed and frantically barking and growling dog from the wife and ordered me in firm terms to put my dog on the leash. His face was filled with an expression I felt was used to ordering people around—or else! I told them that the dogs would get along, and to just leave them alone.
But the dogs began to get nervous as the couple continued to yell at me in an increasing frenzy to leash my dog. Dogs always react to their owners. They also react to other dog owners who yell or threaten their masters. Happy friendly owners breed happy friendly dogs. Now the vibrations were bad, provoking my instant inclination to rebel against anybody ordering or commanding and finally screaming at me to do something instead of asking. I don't even mind being asked in a supercilious way, because at least you ARE asking. And of course they were not the kind of people I wished to have ordering me around, like they owned the beach, like they were used to abusing those dressed in rags with an old rag-tag dog who loved everybody and only wanted to make friends.
When their unleashed dog, a male, sneered, Wilbur went after him, and a brief tiff occurred, Wilbur quickly pouncing in a wild growl and overwhelming and cowing the dog, and now the couple were fairly screaming at me to leash Wilbur, whom I had by the collar and began pulling away. As they screamed at me, the couple, perhaps fifty years old or less, displayed faces fueled with outrage and damnation at the sight of me and my dog, and, since starting yoga, and being 73, I have refrained for some time from losing my vile Russian heritage temper against those I deem having it coming to them.
But something in me snapped. I hated these people, and everything they represent in this suddenly new country I no longer love, the country I served for three years in the army that I find impossible to now love, or even like, this country that has become a disgrace, full of mean-spirited racist haters, and I told the woman to “shut her fucking mouth and the husband to shut his fucking mouth” and stepped forward shaking my fist while my own dog lowered his head in fear of his master going totally apeshit.
I was quivering, my voice something I did not recognize, my breath going short, heart pumping furiously, and suddenly I was light-headed, but it did not matter, what I wanted to do was punch the living shit out of both these people, because to me they are not fellow Americans, but the enemy, to be thwarted and defied and punished from this point on, nonstop, 24/7, just like these white bigots who went after Obama, until they are driven from office and squelched from our country while it still has a soul, and ultimately driven from civilization, while it still exists.
We can get into the specifics later in this class warfare (the trampling of democracy by capitalism, global warming, voting rights, guns, wars, etc.) but for now I needed to unleash in a totally uncalled for irrational non yoga rage, filled with savage venom at the enemy, just so, after I calmed down, I could see their shocked frozen faces resulting from a member of the lowest classes on the socio-economic ladder of America having them where he wanted them, without body guards or lawyers, and scaring the living beJesus out of their billionaire asses with a volcanic salvo that must have been blood-curdling.
A small thing, perhaps a tiny shred of revenge against the mountain of grievances to be faced in the new hating America I can no longer stomach, but already I feel better.
PS. Wilbur kicked ass!
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