Tired of Pandemic and Trump Fatigue

I woke up this morning in a funk. Maybe it was the subconscious acknowledging Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s death, and how Donald and Mitch were plotting to replace her before the poor woman’s body was even cold, and how it looks likely that they will force someone onto the Supreme Court that will undo everything RBG did.

Or maybe I’m just funky because of pandemic fatigue. Tired of being isolated; tired of staying at home, not being able to non-restrictively hug family members and good friends and visit them in their actual homes. I’m tired of not being able to fully play with my grandchildren. I’m tired of having to walk on the other side of the sidewalk or street when passing strangers.

But I’m also real tired of the anti-maskers, the people who refuse to wear masks or practice social distancing. Did you know some of them started to clamor to have businesses open up way back in April? April!

I’m tired of people burning masks; I’m tired of the people like the guy who punched that Pacific Beach restaurant manager and broke his nose just because he was asked to wear a mask. I’m really tired of driving or bicycling around Ocean Beach and seeing so many people without masks. Or the people who wear masks – just over their mouth, not their nose.

I wonder if the anti-maskers – if they had lived during World War II – would have protested against having nightly black-outs and having to have their window shades drawn as people were forced to here in San Diego – for years? During the entire war – even though not a shot from our San Diego shore batteries was ever fired in anger.

I’m tired of the people who want to recall Governor Newsom. And especially tired of the people who threaten our public health officials for warning us of the dangers of COVID. And cause them even to resign.

I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of the pandemic fatigue. But you won’t see me shaking my stick to have everything open. I haven’t eaten inside a restaurant for six months. When I see people eating outside at restaurants just a few feet from other strangers eating outside, I cringe.

Perhaps my subconscious is just tired of the national denial of the pandemic. Now that we’ve reached 200,000 American deaths and Trump says he’s doing such a great job, I’m just tired of his denials and lies and his criminal negligence and traitorous behavior. Try rolling the number 200,000 around on your tongue for a moment. That’s more dead Americans than most of our wars. I’m tired of the virus hitting our Latino and Black communities hardest, of the virus killing first responders, nurses and doctors. I’m tired of the virus emptying out nursing homes.

I’m tired of the lack of national leadership on this pandemic – that is still very much with us. I guess I’m just tired of Trump fatigue. I’m fatigued with Trump and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of Trump and some of his base, the QAnon supporters, the armed-to-the-teeth right-wing militias who want to start a second civil war.

I’m tired of Trump and his acolytes pumping up hatred, racism and white-supremacy; I’m tired of cops killing Black people, and Brown people. I’m tired of cops treating people in their communities as suspects and criminals without them doing anything. I’m tired of seeing young people – of all groups – having to go into the streets and face clubs and teargas and flash-bangs just to fight for the rights that all of us are supposed to already have.

I’m tired of how badly Trump has wrecked our nation. Tired of his climate emergency denial. It makes me deeply saddened to know it may take generations to undo what he has caused. I’m tired and I’m sad. Yet, I’m also angry – angry at how many of our leaders have enabled Trump and Trumpism. I’m angry that the grandchildren I can’t fully hug will be dealing with the Trumpism wrecking ball for years.

I’m angry enough that I have to speak out – share my fatigue, yes – but angry enough to raise my puny voice to counter the fatigue, the tiredness, but also the treason.

There will come a day when the wrecking ball will be held accountable, when enough Americans who share my fatigue and anger exercise democracy, who remember the darkest hour is just before the dawn.