Some thoughts on Governor Cuomo

 

Here, I go, out on a limb, but I am saddened by Governor Cuomo’s resignation. He did the right thing today by resigning. He saw that the state of New York and the country at large could not afford to be wrapped up in a probable impeachment trial when there is covid to fight, an infrastructure bill to pass, and other major matters. But a part of me wishes he had toughed it out, as he said all along he would.

I’m not at all sure he’s a serial sexual harassment offender. He is what he has always been—big, bold, and brash. He’s a product of New York and the Italian culture. As he said, he has always hugged men, women, children, and I would add probably dogs. I have known men like that and appreciated them. In fact, I spent almost twenty years with one. It’s boisterous affection but not harassment. (Don’t get me me into a consideration of cultural differences and Puritanical stances against spontaneous displays of emotion.) Cuomo said today that there was a line he would never cross, but apparently the line has been redrawn. I thought that perhaps the most telling line of anything he said.

The MeToo movement changed America irrevocably—what was once natural now became suspect, and as Cuomo pointed out, it’s hard to know where to draw the line between spontaneous affection and offensive behavior. Cuomo says he never intended to offend, and I believe that—to a certain point. I surely don’t want to whitewash him, and I am sorely troubled by the aide who says he put his hand under her blouse and groped her breasts. But what, really, do we know about that incident, other than he says, she says. As a male friend said to me tonight, if it was a loose-fitting top and he hugged her, something approximating that might have happened.

And that’s another part of the story—he says, she says. Eleven women have accused him; he denies all accusations. The New York AG has investigated, at his request, and come up with the accusations from eleven women. But we don’t know the stories behind their relationship with the governor. There has been no trial where the charged has a chance to prove his innocence. I would like to know, for instance, if any of those women were former romantic partners of the governor. Facebook is not a reliable source, but today I saw a picture of Cuomo and one of his accusers in a chummy pose (and much younger), looking very happy together. So what happened, and why did she come forward now? I know all the theories about women’s reluctance to come forward, and I suppose there is comfort in numbers, but all of a sudden eleven women? It needs investigating, and there should have been a fair trial.

So there’s another thing. I am one of the least likely ever to propose a conspiracy theory, but the governor claims this was a politically motivated attack. And I think it’s a strong enough possibility that it should be investigated. The former president, troublemaker that he continues to be, is not above revenge, and he and trump quarreled publicly.

I think perhaps what upsets me the most is that I am angry at my fellow Democrats. As they did in the Al Franken debacle, they got in a feeding frenzy of righteousness and rushed to judgement on one of their own, forcing him to resign. I wish someone had said, “Hold on. Let’s not be in a hurry. Let’s let this work out as it will, according to the American judicial system.”

There is however another politically motivated possibility. By resigning, Cuomo assured that the governorship would stay in Democratic hands at least throughout his term. If a Republican gets the governor’s seat, he could pardon Donald trump for all crimes in New York, which I believe include sexual and financial violations of the law.

I am troubled that we are a country whose Senate, in Republican hands, will twice refuse to impeach trump (although in fairness sexual crimes were not the issue in those trials, but he is a good suspect for multiple sexual offense that go beyond harassment) and will elevate Brett Kavanaugh to a lifetime seat on the Supreme Court, when a credible source accused him of attempted rape and multiple other accusations were never investigated. The sad conclusion is that Republicans protect their own at the expense of the country; Democrats, in a fit of righteousness, destroy their own.

I don’t think today advanced us as a civilized or respectable member of the international community, and I wish President Biden hadn’t joined the chorus so quickly. I am a Biden fan, bigtime, but not about this.

A one-day vacation

Today I took a one-day vacation. I hadn’t intended to, but when the notion struck me, it seemed just right. Jordan announced last night that she and Jacob would go to Frisco this morning to pick up golf clubs from Jamie. Did I want to go? My first reaction—so typical—was no, thank you, I have work to do. But then I thought how I moan and groan because I don’t see much of Jamie, and he complains that it takes a chunk of time to come to Fort Worth. He was here the last two Saturdays in a row, and it seemed that if I had a chance for even a brief visit, I should go. And besides, what really would I have done that I could not do tomorrow.

So a little after ten we set out for Frisco. I enjoyed the drive. Because I’m so conscious these days of the need to plant trees to add oxygen to our environment, I realized how many thick patches of uncleared land there are even between here and Dallas, especially after you get on the George Bush and pass a road called Lower Tarrant County. Always makes me smile because it sounds like “Inferior Tarrant County,” some sort of slum.

We had a good if brief visit with Jamie, Mel, and Eden. Jacob got to ride some sort of power bike that his uncle had and came away convinced he must have one. We talked, drank tea, and were on the road home too quickly—Jacob had a golf date with his father. We stopped at Starbucks for lunch from the drive-through—remind me not to do that anymore. I do not want sandwiches with those puffy, pre-fab eggs ever again. And the only decaf tea (my doctor says I must) was passion fruit. I am not a fan of fruity teas and rode home in a semi-snit, which, fortunately, I managed to talk myself out of.

Tonight was Sunday supper. I had gotten salmon, but only a pound—for three of us. Guess I wasn’t thinking. Christian went back to Central Market, got more salmon and some shrimp for Jacob who doesn’t like salmon—or hasn’t tried it, I’m not sure which. Christian marinated it in the fresh pesto I made yesterday and then grilled it—absolutely sublime. He and I both had leftovers, which sort of proves that one pound would do, but I am grateful for lunch or dinner tomorrow.

The real treat of the day came as we sat around the table after dinner. I’m not sure how it started, but Christian, Jacob, and I got into a lengthy discussion of politics. I mean, we covered the whole gamut—from trump to abortion to racism to how our democracy works or currently doesn’t work, how trump was elected, what options are open now. Jacob asked a lot of questions but showed a good understanding of the subject. At times, we were all battling to be the one to speak.

The entire exchange was satisfying on several levels. I was delighted to have Jacob take an intelligent interest, when a lot of kids his age would have shrugged off the whole thing with a lack of interest. He was passionately engaged. In the past, Christian and I have not always agreed—he tended to think my activism was extreme—and yet tonight we were 95% in agreement. And finally, such discussions help me keep my mind sharp. I had complained tonight to Jordan about being thought of as “the old lady” until she said, “Don’t say that again. It’s not true, and I’m tired of hearing it.” Our discussion and my ability to articulate what I believe and support it with facts reassured me.

I will sleep happy tonight, though tomorrow will be difficult. The movers come at nine to take away my bedroom furniture, and the floor people come after lunch to begin stripping up the ruined carpet (a/c leak) and installing hardwoods. The cottage is already a mess, crowed with things we’ve taken out of the bedroom. Sophie’s crate is down from the attic, and she has slept in it last night and twice today. Tomorrow she’ll have to spend a lot of the day in it to be out of the workmen’s way. And tomorrow night, I will have to sleep on the couch. I will be so glad when this is over.

Even in my eighties, life is never dull, and I am so grateful.

Soup and Nostalgia

Dinner plans with longtime close friend Kathie tonight. We hadn’t decided where to go when she called and said she really had a hankering for split pea soup. (She knows I love it.) Could she make a pot and bring it? Kathie never does things halfway. She brought soup, salad, and macaroons with chocolate bottoms—plus her own pinot grigio because she absolutely does not like my chardonnay. We had a glass of wine on the patio—such a lovely day—and then we feasted.

We also had a good, old nostalgia session, talking about our lives, our children, people we know and love. We shed a few tears talking about her late husband, whom I knew and loved, and about the changes in our lives as we age—she’s about five years younger than I. We’re part of a foursome that dines together at least once a month, but the other two were unavailable tonight. I think we both thoroughly enjoyed the one-on-one visit.

Otherwise, a non-eventful day, although how anyone can call life non-eventful with what’s going on in D.C. is beyond me. I am in complete sympathy with the man who wrote that he wakes every morning waiting to hear some astounding news like Trump has resigned, been arrested, stroked out—and yet, nothing happens and the tension builds.

I have a new resolve not to be drawn into fruitless arguments with people who are blind Trumpites. To my mind, all that is wrong is so clear; but I must reluctantly accept that people who follow Trump have convinced themselves he’s right about everything from nuclear attacks to the environment to the economy. I absolutely cannot see how they can do that and overloo so much, but I realize I demean myself when I argue.

Nonetheless I was drawn into it yesterday by a woman who said she didn’t elect a preacher, she elected a businessman. When I pointed out that he is a failed businessman—nine bankruptcies—she wrote and said in effect, “Oh well, we all know business is risky.” Not quite the kind of leader I want in charge of our national economy.

See? There I go again. I simply can’t control my tongue or my fingers. Perhaps my brother is right—I’m like a dog with a bone. But then I have a Facebook acquaintance who posts statements like what wonderful things Trump is doing for the country, starts a volatile thread, and then backs off and lets the acrimony roll, occasionally inserting such innocuous comments as “God bless you all,” or “Don’t argue, pray.” I think I agree with the latter.

On a happier front, I procrastinated today—wrote one guest post about why I indie publish but didn’t ever get to my work in progress. Feels good to be lazy for a day. I’m sure my conscience will drive me back to work tomorrow.

Enjoy this fine weather, my friends.