One Man

I have been on a self-imposed hiatus. No one on this planet has the time nor the will to listen to the why. But after months, and for what it’s worth, I’m back.

I recently celebrated my 71st birthday. A milestone given my miss-spent youth that carried through to young adulthood, I never expected to see my 50th. It all got me thinking.

As a ‘55 baby, I was born into an America whose laws sanctioned and promoted segregation, an ugly and dark, unfathomable time of our history. Cities, neighborhoods, schools, playgrounds, swimming pools, churches, libraries, streets, restaurants, movie theatres, music halls, buses, water fountains, lending institutions, car dealerships, elections —- every unequal segment of our country’s society —- dictated where and how Black Americans could intersect with White Americans —- Whites superior —- Blacks less than.

Nine years later, President Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act of 1964, but not before decades of blood spilled on our nation’s streets, not before Black citizens were targeted by the FBI, the KKK, local police, not before they were ravaged by attack dogs, fire hoses and not before majority Black cities, beach towns, businesses were burned to the ground.

In my small midwestern town, there was in fact, “the other side of the tracks.”

As a third-grader I mourned, along with an entire nation and world, as the President of the United States of America, while riding in an open car on a two-day, five-city Texas tour aimed at unifying the Democratic Party, was gunned down in broad daylight. He was preparing for his 1964 re-election campaign.

The very next year Malcolm X was shot multiple times in New York, while preparing to address the Organization of Afro-American Unity. Three years later, while standing on the balcony of his hotel in Memphis, TN, Martin Luther King, Jr. —- executed—- two months later, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., assassinated at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, California, shortly after winning the California Democratic primary.

Backdropped and entangled around the social constructs of the 60’s, lurked the Vietnam war. Tens of thousands of young men were being drafted to fight in a country whose language and culture we did not know or understand —- and for which there was no clear-cut purpose —- promoted and escalated by leaders motivated more by profit than purpose.

I can remember walking through my neighborhood, passing by homes displaying lighted candles and gold stars. We all had family and friends called up to fight in a war no one wanted, but who never made it home.

There was Richard Nixon and Watergate and hearings and threats of an impending impeachment, a resignation, a pardon, huge Congressional Republican turnover and a significant transformation to how our country’s co-equal branch of government would serve as a check-and-balance over its Executive Branch.

To say these childhood events significantly impacted my worldview would be an understatement. They did. And so did the music, the artists, the protests, the spirit, the violence, the racism, the bullying, the compassion, the kindness and the evolution of everyday people. All of it.

And here I am today, 71 years later. Still standing.

For a little more than a decade, we’ve been living a split screen. On one, every day people, walking through each day with hopes and dreams, the desire to succeed and the need to survive.

The other —- feeling off balance; heightened anxiety; worry; will he? won’t he? living in chaos, watching as our friends and family members are terrorized, maimed and disappeared by a state-sanctioned rambo militia; feeling unsafe, watching, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

One man.

This was the cover of Der Spiegel, published in 2022, in response to protests following the murder-by-Minnesota-cop of George Floyd. It screams out today, four years later.

He is a man who comes alive, thrives, relishes in every second of chaos he ultimately creates. It doesn’t matter who is harmed in its wake, because not only does he see himself as the Conqueror in Charge, but it rarely if ever touches him. So he strikes the match. And waits.

One man.

He’s impulsive. He governs by fiat on his social media platform. Life and death policy decisions are created not by seeking the advice of experts. Not by seeking the depth of knowledge and experience of the U.S. Intelligence community. Not by systemically studying a situation —- his gut. His whims. Television.

During an August 16, 2015 segment of NBC’s Meet the Press, moderator Chuck Todd asked Trump who he talks to for military advice. Trump’s exact response:

“Well, I watch the shows. I mean, I really see a lot of great — you know, when you watch your show and all of the other shows and you have the generals…”

One man.

In a January 7, 2026 New York Times interview, he was asked whether there were any limits on his global powers, he responded: “Yeah, there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”

One man.

Here is the President of the United States dressed as a toy soldier, pictured with his parents who shuffled him off to a New York “military school,” because, at their wit’s end and fresh out of options, they saw no other way to deal with his uncontrollable behavioral issues.

This toy soldier never served a single day in uniform defending his country. Not this guy. Instead, when hundreds of thousands of young men —- 18, 19 and 20 year-olds with their entire lives ahead of them —- were being shipped off to war —- he secured 5 deferments to avoid his boots ever touching the soil of Vietnam.

On the pretext (sort of because he’s never been clear) of saving all of civilization from a phantom threat of nuclear war, he made the decision, together with his partner in crime, Bibi Netanyahu, to launch attacks on Iran and start a war.

And why not. His own young son and grandkids will never be expected to serve in a war he started. But our sons, daughters and grandkids will.

A taxpayer-funded war costing billions every day (day number 56 as of April 24th), no Congressional approval, no pre-announcement to the American people who are funding the effort at great personal sacrifice, no consultation or collaboration or input from our allies. Only his own mind, feelings and morality. And television.

One Man.

The result of his singularly feckless and impulsive action to start dropping bombs, together with his singularly feckless and impulsive action to randomly impose tariffs, has brought our country and the world to its knees, both financially and economically.

But what does he care. He and his family, his administration, multi-billionaires, CEO’s, corporations, oil companies and anyone else who has submitted to his pay-to-play schemes, are living their best lives. At our expense.

Families across America are skipping meals while paying $1,500 plus more a year because of tariff-driven prices, and a ridiculous and senseless war, with no end in sight, watching their health insurance double and food and gas prices escalate weekly.

One man.

Tens of thousands of people will be sitting down this evening, leafing through their checkbooks, going through their bank statements, flipping through the pile of bills in front of them. Rent? What excuse this month can be provided to the landlord, being the 24th day of the month, or the bank, now that today officially marks 60 days behind on the mortgage. Utilities? How far can you go without having the electricity, gas and water shut off? And if any one of them meet the ax, what are your options?

One man.

It has taken only 15 months for just one man to break our government, to break our economy, to break our global alliances. But —- 15 months later, he has failed to break the spirit of the American people.

The radius of pain resulting from this one man’s pen, has no equivalent in modern history outside of declared world wars. One man. One office. Infinite externalities — all landing on us —- who didn’t choose any of it.

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