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Posts Tagged ‘washington’

Driving home last evening the discussion in our car turned to Washngton, D.C. Not the town, but the politics.

And, of course, the healthcare rumpus, jobs, social services, our schools, immigration,  the portentous direction of our economy, the war…then a dark and heavy silence.

Over the radio played Frank Sinatra’s “I Did It My Way” accompanied by the low hum of the car’s engine. We had just pulled onto Airport Freeway among the honking cars and trucks like bumper cars cutting in and out on their mad scramble to nowhere in particular.

“Should conversatons end with solutions?” my spouse ventured.

“Should,” I replied.

“Well this one hasn’t.”

“The problem is not the subject,” I countered. “It’s the place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” I started hesitantly, “Washington has polarized because we only have two parties. The Dems give everything away to the poor and the Republicans give all the tax breaks to the rich.”

I paused to dodge a car that virtually clipped our front end as it cut between us and the car we were behind.

“When the Dems fail us we vote Republican to punish them. And when the Republicans fail us, we vote in the Dems to punish the Republicans. There’s no alternative parties! It’s a hell of a mess, if you ask me.”

“It is,” my spouse said solemnly. “Extremely volatile!”

“Well, think about it!”  I replied. “The poor have representation and the rich have representation. The middle class has virtually no representation, but gets tapped for the taxes to pay for all this bureaucratic pork!”

The dark silence again as we dodged streaking and careening cars rushing madly down the freeway.

“Wish I could return to the ’50s back on the farm in South Texas,” I muttered.

“It would be simpler,” she said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Washington’s just got too close to Texas. There don’t appear to be no good end in sight, either.”

“I understand,” she said.

Dodging an eighteen wheeler cutting across two lanes to make an exit, I whipped the car into the left hand lane and hit the gas peddle to stay with the traffic flow.

“Really!” I said. “So do I. We’re like served a burger on two buns with no beef…and no beef in the foreseeable future, except promises bloated with rhetorical air.”

“Remember when we used to look at the world through the hole in our granny’s screen door when we were kids.”

“You’re memaw had one too?” she said.

“Yep,” I replied. “I used to look at the world through it.”

“And?”

“Then I grew up,” I said. “Yep. I grew up.”

Pointing the car at the exit ramp, I shot through the melee of jockying drivers for the safety of the service road. A streetlamp blinked out. Others stood like emaciated sentries casting their feeble blueish light upon each intersection we passed as we negotiated a maze of streets on our way home.

If only Washington was as simple, I thought. We pulled off the street through the open garage door to our home. It closed.

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