Childless adults have always made everybody uncomfortable

I should know. For whatever reasons, I never had children. So, sue me.

And now this private matter has become a scolding stick by the political Right. When my colleagues find out I do not have children, their reaction has always been first one of sympathy and second a remark meant to be comforting, like “You’re better off.” Then they tell me the problems they’re having with their adolescents, serious ordeals I’m glad I don’t have to deal with. Child rearing is the hardest job in the world, I think we all can agree. After all, Oprah Winfrey (also childless) said it several times on her TV show. As a teacher, I suppose I know a lot more about kids and teens than my childless contemporaries who work in occupations that do not involve dealing with kids on a daily basis.

But more than one school principal has asked me point blank, “Are you a parent?” Like this means anything. The implication being that only parents make the best teachers. Allow me this one brutally honest clarification: Teaching and Parenting are not the same thing.

In fact, my feminist sisters assured me that a prospective boss or employer cannot ask our (women’s) parental status. They said it’s downright illegal. Nevertheless, it happens. Still. And come on, get over it. That boat has sailed. Maybe my figure looks like a woman who’s bore a few children. So it’s an assumption … made only by male supervisors. What’s up with that? Women supervisors never ask me if I have children. And male supervisors never ask men if they’re parents. So, childless is a sexist adjective. It is intentionally meant to insult and break us presumed emotionally frail women who’ve never reproduced. There was a time when people felt sorry for women who never had children or couldn’t have children. Those days are gone. Ehhh, we don’t need their pity anyway.

And that’s another problem with the Right: Women like me, who’ve never given live birth, aren’t ‘Marilyn Monroe’ about it. We’re not all emotionally broken, harboring a deep secret sorrow throughout our entire lives, on the verge of tears, feeling incomplete as women because we never became mothers. Instead, we carry on as career women (who are, more often than not, also mothers). Not having children is sad to a point, but in this country, I thought, work and career are most important. Look at how the U.S. treats mandatory time off after giving birth, still letting each business call the shots by offering a few weeks to a few months—then it’s get back to work. Compare with Germany that provides both mothers and fathers up to three years off after the birth of a baby. Now as a teacher, I can attest, that’s more like it. The first three years of a child’s life are the most important in overall emotional, physical and psychological development. The U.S. is so far behind on this human right.

They made Murphy Brown have a baby

The difference between women and men is we have a biological clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. We’re keenly aware of the best age to reproduce (our 20s). And if we miss it, it’s gone. Only the wealthy have access to additional methods to try to create a new life, one being in vitro fertilization. But wait, the Right has problems with that method (because it involves abortion).

A couple of decades ago, it was a woman’s choice to reproduce or not. There are many reasons why some women don’t have a baby already. Has the Right forgotten about genetics, miscarriages, still births, and myriad things that can go wrong with mother and/or unborn baby during pregnancy? Pregnancy is all about the gray in life, the uncertainties, never the assurance of a perfect healthy baby. It is a huge risk for some women. To know each woman’s reason for not having children would be heartbreaking—to people who have hearts.

When I was a single career gal in my 20s and 30s, I watched TV shows with characters relating to my lifestyle, like “Seinfeld,” “Cheers” and “Murphy Brown.” The latter intrigued me because I was a news reporter, and Murphy Brown was a TV journalist based in Washington, D.C. She was the consummate career woman who worked her way up from the 1960s covering every kind of story, mostly politics. But way after she was in her 40s, she became pregnant. And she made the decision to not marry the father but have the baby. It was a decision heard round the world because Vice President Dan Quayle made a big Republican deal about it, calling this decision, by a fictitious TV sitcom’s character, inappropriate and falsely influencing young girls to do the same. (Almost half of all American girls and women who give birth are unmarried, and it’s been this way since the 1980s.)

The “Murphy Brown” premise didn’t wash with me either. I knew the network suits made TV’s Murphy Brown have a baby to bring a contrived family angle. It was like the baby didn’t belong in Murphy’s world of political banter, investigative journalism, and high-pressure national TV news. It was strange. Yet most of my work colleagues in the news biz had children, managed to do their jobs and raise kids. If it were me, I don’t know what I would have done. But that was and still is how I’ve always seen my life and careers: as a service to mankind because I don’t have children.

In closing, let me point out the one fact that has been unspoken in American politics since the Clinton administration: Teen pregnancy is the number one reason for lifelong poverty. And it’s generational: A teen mother who has a child she cannot afford often becomes a grandmother of her teen daughter’s child that they both can’t afford, and so on. See, not every female will opt for abortion even if it’s legal. But the majority of teen mothers will remain in poverty for the rest of their lives. Their opportunities are few, their future bleak, their self-worth diminished. This is true for both mother and child(ren). Poor kids are the ones I teach.

It’s a lot to ask of every woman in this country: Get busy having babies. What may be a piece of cake to most women is not for everyone. And most importantly, to have or not to have children is a woman’s private matter; no one’s business; and, despite the Right’s assumption, not political—not in the slightest.

Assassination fascination

Our nation’s history is full of assassinated and wounded leaders by gunfire. We can list those killed by bullets: JFK, RFK, MLK, McKinley, Garfield, Lincoln.

Then there’s the lesser known yet much longer list of elected officials shot, some critically, but who survived an assassination attempt: from contemporaries like Gabby Giffords and Steve Scalise to further back in time Teddy Roosevelt and dozens more. Now joining that list is former President Donald Trump, shot while campaigning at a Republican rally in Pennsylvania.

In our supersonic social media age, supporters of Trump were quick to blame the Democrats, their presumed sworn enemy. More disconcerting, immediately after the shooting were their middle fingers shot at the mass media.

But no, the assassination attempt was not an enemy plot but just ‘the usual suspect’—spotted & killed almost as soon as the deadly shooting occurred—another troubled white young man, an American youth.

After bullets flew across the sky, killing one man in the crowd while critically injuring two others along with President Trump, the former President was quick to show a defiant fist and shout to his supporters “Fight! Fight! Fight!”—as if the assassination attempt was a long-awaited plot by his political foes to bring down our country.

No. Just another obscure white American man-child of 20. Essentially nothing is known about him as the FBI has interviewed not only his parents, relatives and neighbors but also his classmates from high school. He was a loner, never smiled, seemingly pathetic and friendless, neglected hygiene, no known mental illness or police record, didn’t leave a trail of rantings on social media or on paper but did have the makings of bombs in his home—a home with more than a dozen guns owned by his parent. A few hours before the Trump rally, this slim unassuming teen-age-looking male simply took one of his father’s AR-style rifles and lots of bullets. And because he knew nobody ever really noticed him, he was able to climb atop a nearby building, aim at Trump and took to shooting people.   

Why did he do it?

Isn’t it obvious? He was bullied all his life—like practically all the young white males in our country who foresee nothing but a grim future and believe shooting people, especially someone as famous as Donald Trump, will show up those who knew them. They’re not chicken. They’re men, damn it, and now everybody will know their names, maybe even respect them especially if they die in action.

The bullet that got away

Life is ironic sometimes. An assassin’s bullet that nicks an ear, totally missing the head and brain, brings thoughts if not assurances of ‘Someone up there’s watching out for me.’ Anyone who survived such a close call with death will often come to prayer or even start believing in a Supreme Being or Higher Power, maybe a higher purpose in their miraculously spared lives.

Then for others who count themselves in the lucky few, there’s the guilt of surviving such a deadly attempt when another died and others were severely injured with months of painful rehabilitation. Gunshot survivors will never be the same physically and emotionally. There’s a mass post traumatic stress disorder to cope with, too, when the shooting takes place in a crowd.

But a bullet to the ear is worth pondering. It’s as if Trump’s would-be assassin was trying to get through to someone who is known as a bully, someone who while serving as U.S. President was proud of coming across as a Tough Guy. Tough guys play on the weakness and politeness of everybody else in society, those who don’t speak up, those who don’t push back because it’s unbecoming.

That is likely what Trump’s would-be assassin learned from childhood that included lots of bullying as well as the tumultuous Trump presidency, if we’re being honest.

Someone that young, not even yet voting in a Presidential election, hasn’t lived long enough to decide his own politics. Apparently, he fell in line with everyone around him in his neck of the Pennsylvania woods and registered as a Republican. He just wanted to fit in, didn’t want to make waves, probably was never confrontational his entire life.

Yet he’ll go down in history as a murderer and attempted assassin of a former U.S. President.

This lone shooter, with no motive or political grudge against Trump or Republicans, got a gun and took to shooting people. Wonder if he gave a thought to the harm he would cause. Doubt it. Wonder if he thought he would really assassinate a former President. Perhaps. Wonder if he thought he’d live to tell why he did it, live the rest of his life in prison. Maybe. Did he think he’d be killed in the process? It happens all the time.

But … we and he know guns do a lot of damage in split seconds, death being the purpose of the weapon after all. Those, like President Trump, left with gunshot wounds and the surviving family of the man shot to death in the flurry of traveling bullets from a powerful rifle—where the shooter doesn’t really see his targets—along with all the rest of us Americans must deal with another sorry incident caused by a deeply troubled young man … who felt powerless … until holding a loaded gun.

Shootings are so common in America as to occur several times a day, causing more than 25,000 deaths a year by firearms and many more injuries. And … it’s never going to end, is it? It is the bold thick lengthy expanding red thread sewn into the tapestry of our nation’s history, tightly binding all us Americans together.

Dear Uncle Joe:

You know I love you, right? I love you as our nation’s President almost as much as I love President Jimmy Carter—and anyone who knows me will assure you that’s a helluva lot. I have no problem with any of your policies during your term in office as well as your leadership as Veep for President Barack Obama. Time and again, you’ve proven the naysayers underestimate you. And it’s been a lot of fun watching you win time and again and basically be right about everything. And it’s your wisdom, that truly comes from having served in DC for decades, that has made you a superior American president. Slow and steady wins the race. You taught us well. We appreciate you more than we can say. Hope you know that.

But … you were only supposed to serve one term. Remember? That was the plan. Four to five years ago, you knew age would become a problem for anyone in his 80s serving as U.S. President. And these times in which we are living are extremely difficult for us laypeople to understand, even more for all nationally elected officials the world over.

Come on. The very practical Joe Biden in 2020 would acknowledge and accept the natural progression of human frailty especially when turning 80. Your life has been stellar, inspirational, a dream come true in many ways. It’s been a damn good life, a long life—and, honey, it’s time to let someone else lead the Democratic Party.

Now don’t cry. Don’t you cry on me. I can’t stand to see a grown man cry. I know, it’s common among the elderly. Bless your heart, you can’t help it.

Look, we’re not kicking you to the curb. We just need a Democrat who can and will counter each and every lie spouted by Republican nominee President Donald Trump. We need that more than anything at this point in time.

So, allow the Democratic National Convention to do what they should have been doing all this time: scanning the nation for viable presidential candidates. You can be a big part of the process. Surely you have some ideas of viable contenders. You know everyone. I like the list from 2020, and all us Dems like the strong, popular and articulate governors like California’s Gavin Newsom and Michigan’s Gretchen Whitmer. They could win. They could beat Trump. What’s more important than that?

And I——-will always love you——

You may not remember my best friend Jean, now deceased. But she was from your hometown of Wilmington, DE, and proudly knew you. She worked on your first campaign in the 1970s. She later moved to Dallas where the two of us became fast friends. She once told me I was one of a very few liberal Democrats she knew in Texas. And she always told me, “Joe Biden would make a great president!”

I didn’t think much about you in the 1990s when Jean and I became friends. I wanted Al Gore. But I was OK with Bill Clinton winning. Years later I would have voted for Hillary Clinton, but she would not commit to ending the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. But Obama said he would end the wars. (The Republicans and their perpetual wars. What were they thinking? And for twenty long years.) So I voted for Obama over Hill to end the wars, and he was able to end only one of them. Then almost as soon as you took office, you ended the other forever war. It was abrupt, awful, deadly, messy, reminiscent of when we pulled out of Vietnam. But as always, you’ve proven you can do the most terrible jobs of a U.S. President. To your credit, we’re not entering another war. Let’s keep it that way.

My good friend Jean actually knew you. And I had faith in my best friend. After all, we were simpatico. I miss her so much, now more than ever. I do believe, however, that even Jean would be practical enough to talk candidly with you, as a Wilmington neighbor and lifelong supporter, about bowing out gracefully. Don’t run again in 2024. You’re beautiful. Be gracious. Allow candidates with experience and maturity and most of all the quick wit to call Trump’s constant BS. They learned from watching you, you know.

With this election, I’m not sure you are the only one who could beat Trump. And for perfect strategy, we could use someone younger, you know younger than Trump. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate counter: running someone younger?! Of course!

America really needs to get over electing the elderly for U.S. President. Why have both national political parties put us in this precarious position? Like we are to believe that Trump and Biden are the only possible candidates in the entire country for U.S. President? Don’t believe it for a minute. We can’t even talk about it for fear of upsetting our own elderly parents. Too old is too old. Our country has a minimum age for running for president. Makes sense we’d amend to cap the opposite end. I say 69. No one can and should run for U.S. President if older than 69. Fair enough? And no, we don’t need to wait and see if time will tell. After the unprecedented summer presidential debate, it’s crystal clear: Time is not on either political party’s side.