Coffee Drinkers in the Neighborhood
It has been some while since I reported on the daily conversations
at the coffee table with my friends, the North Woods men. Yesterday’s occasion
of chewing the fat had all the earmarks of a typical chat, so I’ll report on it
to bring you up to date and you can decide on the level of early morning intelligence
in my neighborhood.
We met yesterday morning in Larry’s kitchen as is our normal,
every morning practice. I was first to arrive so I had the duty of finding a
few, mostly-clean coffee cups among the assortment in Larry’s cupboard. (Larry
sets them aside specifically for us freeloaders.) I sat down at the oak table
that Larry waxed just last year so’s we’d all know he is serious about keeping
things up. He skittered about his kitchen while I settled in, emitting the odd
curse every moment or two that always accompanies the making of coffee in his second-hand
coffee maker. The thing about the coffee maker is that it came at a good price
at Saint Vincent’s – the most popular store in town. The pot groaned and
burbled just as a vehicle pulled in Larry’s driveway and Tim walked in the
kitchen after a single perfunctory knock on the cabin door.
“Mornin,” Tim managed to grunt as he pulled out the special
chair that he claims at Larry’s table. No one else sits in his chair since he
equipped the chair some months earlier with a special pad for those who have
his particular assortment of back and butt complaints. No sooner had Tim pulled
up his chair than Lew slipped in to occupy his chair opposite. Although Lew
always walks in without knocking, I knew he had arrived from the sound of his
pick-up truck that needed a new muffler last year – the same one that Lew has
steadfastly refused to fix despite its noise that rattles the cups in Larry’s
cupboard. No one else heard the commotion since most are not good at keeping
their hearing aids equipped with fresh batteries. There is a fair amount of
yelling required at the table to make yourself heard.
Since no one spoke, I decided to start the conversational
gambit. We normally cover the expected weather for the day first, but I broke
tradition. “Did you hear what our President said last night?” I yelled. I had
no idea what he had said, but I was sure I would start something that would
last for the next thirty minutes covering my time at the table. Larry rose to
the bait.
“The damn fool is at it again,” Larry said with a vehemence
that was noteworthy for both its volume and Larry’s clenched teeth.
Despite Tim’s bad back, he saw an opening for his initial
salvo. He straightened his back and leaned forward in his wobbly chair, “I
agree that he is a fool, but whatever he said probably wasn’t true anyway since
he is known to have publicly uttered several thousand lies that have been
verified by a whole cadre of respected journalists.” Since there was no
immediate response, Tim continued. “What did he say last night?”
“It was more about the black Congress-women that he doesn’t
like. He showed his racist traits again,” Larry announced as he looked around
the table for agreement.
I saw an opportunity to add fuel to the fire that was just
beginning to be kindled so I jumped in, swallowing my self-respect. “Are you
sure you aren’t being too hard on the poor guy? He can’t seem to say anything
about Blacks and Muslins without the press jumping all over him.”
Maybe I went too far. There was a dead silence as the three
Trump-bashers stared at me and my brashness in questioning the independent
press and their treatment of their favorite target, Mr. Trump. It seemed to me
that they surely must owe Trump since he provides grist for their reporting
efforts on a daily basis, even if it is all about him or his campaign to be
President--For--Life.
Larry seemed to take the lead as he began a lengthy diatribe
in attempting to list the many failures of our current President. Since we were
in his house, drinking his coffee and muddying his kitchen floor, we all felt
compelled to let him rant for at least 30 seconds before interrupting. Lew took
the honors of Chief Interrupter since he had been silent thus far. I could tell
Lew was serious since he took off his stained baseball cap as he began his
interruption.
“I know that Trump feeds at the public trough just like all
the politicians in Washington. The main difference between him and the others
is that he gets Russian help in whatever he wants to do as the marine, Robert
Mueller has proved. And, no matter what anyone says, Russia’s involvement in
our election is against the law and Trump ought to go to jail for permitting
it. In fact, I’d like to see the Sergeant of Arms in the House of Representatives
leading him out of the White House in handcuffs.”
The sudden twist in the argument against the President
seemed to take everyone by surprise. Since we had discussed the Mueller report
numerous times and since Tim had furnished a copy of Part Two of Mueller’s
400-page report, no one seemed inclined to argue Lew’s point. After reading the
report and engaging in lengthy discussions. we all believed Mueller’s facts, what
with him being a decorated marine, while the other side mostly shirked their
duty by avoiding the Army. No one wanted to reopen that topic again.
Feeling that the firestorm was beginning to falter, I tried
stirring the coals. “Wouldn’t that be something! – having our president run the
government from a jail cell.” That did it. Everyone seemed to have an opinion
about the benefits and risks of sending envoys to jail for orders from the
President. Some thought it wouldn’t be seemly to have three- and four-star
generals running in and out of a jail with important papers for the President.
We debated the pro’s and con’s of that circumstance until
Lew finally ended the topic with what seemed to be a summary conclusion. “On
second thought, maybe it’s a good idea. It would save us the cost of paying for
all the Air Force One trips to Mar-a-Lago.”
The stirring up of government waste by a President who loves
playing golf did the trick. The conversation took off anew as Lew, Tim and
Larry each had a favorite example of government waste. Tim was just getting
warmed up on this latest thread when I slipped out the door for my walk home.
It was just another day at the coffee klatch, I mused, as I stretched my legs
for my daily exercise.
