President

The Set-up.

On Tuesday evening I participated in #MichaelMoore‘s Facebook Live Event. It was a very interesting experience to say the least. After I introduced myself to Michael, numerous Canadians chimed in to say they “agreed” with me. That was nice and of them and not surprising. After all, we are known as a country of “nice and polite” people. But there was one comment, from a Trump Supporter, who wasn’t pleased with what I had to say and made his thoughts abundantly clear. He called me a communist idiot and #HillaryClinton a criminal whore. I went to bed that night completely unaware of the comment directed specifically at me. I had been tagged. Meanwhile, I was in Dreamland, and happily oblivious to the fiery discourse that was taking place in response to The Trump Supporter’s comment to me. It was the last thing I had expected and disconcerting to say the least. Just the number of email notifications alone was overwhelming. Enough said.

Below are the unedited comments between the Trump Supporter and I. He never replied to my “response”. Perhaps I rendered him speechless.

The Comment.

Bonney (Boo) King: Hi from Victoria, BC. I’m Canadian and if I could vote for Hillary I would. No question. Love Bernie too. And you. Just watched your movie over the weekend. It was brilliant.

The Response to My Comment.

The Trump Supporter: Hey Bonney stay in canada we don’t need another communist idiot like you to vote for that criminal whore HILLARY

The Response to His Comment.

Bonney (Boo) King: Firstly, I wouldn’t be a good Canadian if I didn’t start by saying I am very sorry that I offended you. I also want you to know that I hear you. Although we may not agree politically I do hear what you’re saying. But more importantly, I hear the anger, rage, fury, frustration, fear, anxiety, and maybe even a bit of sadness, within your words. For these are difficult and challenging times for your country, a county that is not only worthy of your dear and patriotic heart, but worthy of the admiration and respect of the world, in particular your neighbors and friends north of the border. So worthy.

And believe it or not, I love your country too. I grew up in a small border town in Northwestern Ontario and have many fond memories of my wonder years spent in Minnesota.

So during these final days before your election, an election that will not only decide the fate of your country – but in many critical and important ways – the fate of ours and others all around the world, you are in our collective thoughts. Sounds a bit preposterous perhaps but it’s true. Because of your hard-won status as a world leader, what happens in the United States affects us all. We’re all watching and waiting and wondering what will be the outcome next week. And what will become of us, as evolved human beings, in the days and weeks and years that follow. I don’t know a lot for sure, but I do know that whatever happens it will change the course of history – good, bad or otherwise. As an outsider, I have found it exhausting, and at many times heart-breaking, to witness the turbulent maelstrom of these past few months, so I can only imagine how tired, weary, whipped and battle-worn you must feel.

I wish you well and all good things. I wish for you peace, and that somewhere in all of this stressful patience testing, that you find understanding and a place of common ground with your fellow Americans, who like you, love their country dearly. I pray that you will continue to love it mightily regardless of who becomes President next week, and that you will stop calling each other names and move forward in loving kindness.

The Follow-up.

On Wednesday evening I shared the above post with my Facebook Friends. Their overall response was twofold: A) very supportive and sorry that I was on the receiving end of such unpleasant name-calling, and B) somewhat astonished and perhaps even confounded and perplexed by my response to The Trump Supporter.

After reading all their intelligent, thoughtful, kind and loving comments, I shared the following explanation of why I replied the way I did to The Trump Supporter.

The Final Comment.

Thank you all for your thoughtful words of kindness. I am grateful.

Believe it or not, my initial reaction to the comment from The Trump Supporter on Tuesday night’s #MichaelMoore’s #FacebookLive event was to chuckle. Seriously. In my defense, it was very early in the morning and I was in a pre-caffeinated state, but it seemed hilarious that he called me an idiot. Me? An idiot? Silly perhaps, often foolish, and at times downright asinine. But an idiot. No. Never. Plus, I wasn’t your typical garden variety either. I was a “communist” idiot. I’m not that either. Socialist – perhaps. I do have a distinctive left-leaning gait. And I do care deeply about my fellow inhabitants of this awe-inspiring planet that we all share and call home. If that makes me a Socialist, then I confess.

I am also acutely aware that we are all tenants, stewards and custodians here – not owners or landlords. So we’re all in this together – like it or not. We’re here, to not only love and care for the planet, but to love and care for one another. And yes, even the unlovable ones. Or the difficult, the different, the distasteful ones. Yes, even those impossible to understand, accept or breathe the same air.

But this is our challenge as evolved human beings. And it is not easy – at least not for me. I wrestle this devil every day.

When I read heated contentious comments like those of The Trump Supporter on Facebook, I typically move on and refuse to participate. I don’t like public shit shows. One of the great things about this country is that we all have the right, to not only have opinions, but to express them. And with that comes agreement and disagreement. I don’t want that to ever change.

I decided to respond to The Trump Supporter. His comment required it of me. But I didn’t want to reply in kind and spit back the same vitriol that he vomited on me. So I looked into my soul, my Girl Warrior spirit, right to the very essence of my being and thought this:

What would Michelle Obama do? Go high when they go low. What would my mother (Ma) and Jesus do? Turn the other cheek. What would my daughter Aimee do? Stand up for herself.

Inspired by that, I wrote from the purest place in my heart. I did my very best to take the high road, turn the other cheek and stand up for what I believe to be true. I did this knowing full well that it most likely wouldn’t change The Trump Supporter’s mind or heart. Not one bit.

But here’s the really great thing. It transformed my heart, my mind. And if in the process, even one person was moved by my humble thoughts then I think that maybe, just maybe, we’re moving the level of discourse in the right direction. It is my prayer that together, hand-in-fragile-hand, we head towards greater awareness, compassion, kindness, empathy, tolerance, respect, generosity, love, acceptance, peace and ultimately healing. Yes healing. Because after next week, we’re all going to need healing in massive doses. And we have to carry on. But we get to choose how we do that – good, bad or otherwise. United or apart.

I hope you will all join me on this journey of raising our level of collective spiritual consciousness. We can do this. Together.

I grew up in a border town, which meant that in a mere half-hour we could be in Minnesota. Taking a drive to “The States” was something we did on a regular basis. The Old Man, Ma and I would take many a Sunday afternoon drive down to the US border just to wander around the Border Store with it’s creaky wooden floors, endless aisles of trinkets ‘n trash, and all kinds of cheap crap made of plastic.

There was also all the absolutely stupendous candy that you could only get in America. It wasn’t like today where you can get anything from anywhere no matter how far out in the boonies you live. Back then, you had to travel 40 miles south on highway 61 and cross the Pigeon River Bridge to sink you teeth into a wondrous and unforgettable Sugar Daddy, Chocolate BB Bat, Big Cherry Bar, Turkish Taffy, and the oh-so exotic wax bottle mini drinks. Good God they were good.

By the time I was a teenager we had many trips to Duluth, or even as far south as Minneapolis. Most trips were shopping excursions, which often included my older sister and at least one of her ubiquitous girlfriends. I have fond memories of the lions and tigers at the Duluth Zoo. Once the Dag Hammarskjold High School Band did a disastrous tour of Duluth High Schools. I played second clarinet. Enough said. I also made at least one trip to Duluth with my girlfriends Terry and Suzy, where we stayed in a cheap old hotel that stank of stale cigarettes and fried onions, and met two man-boys, one of which wore a toupee. I still blush when I think of it.

I loved American small towns, American boys, American music, American movie stars, American baseball, American shoes, American clothes, American potato chips, American candy and even the American flag because it had stars, which I also loved. Yes, I grew up coveting all things American. Everything about it seemed just a little bit better than what we had. I was proud to be a Canadian girl who loved America.

I remember where I was the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Mr. Ward made the announcement that fateful Friday afternoon just before our class was dismissed for the weekend. I remember how stunned and sad I was walking home from school that miserable overcast November day. I remember the excitement of Neil Armstrong walking on the moon in the sultry summer of 1969. Decades later I would fictionalize the memory in my first novel, Summer in a Red Mustang with Cookies. I remember where I was the morning of September 11 when the twin towers were brought down. The Today Show’s Katie Couric delivered the devastating news in real-time as we watched in horror as they crumbled to the ground in a cloud of smoke and ash. But like the Phoenix rising, I remember how deliriously happy I was when Barack Obama became President. The Americans had a great leader again, one worthy of our respect and admiration, like Kennedy.

And then I remember how bewildered I was almost a year ago when Donald Trump announced that he was officially running for president of the United States and that he was going to make America great again. How was that even possible? First of all, I thought America was already pretty great. I thought this had to be some kind of joke, another publicity stunt, and that he didn’t stand a chance. But now, like most of us, I know that this isn’t a joke. This is seriously scary shit. Come November, it is quite possible that we could all be saying President Trump. I choke on the words.

When I look back on the America of my youth, the America I loved to visit, the America I admired, and the America I thought would be such a cool place to live, I’m sad and overwhelmed with grief by what is unfolding on the other side of the border. Over the past few months, I’ve found myself angry, frustrated, dismayed, disturbed, troubled, worried, offended, frightened and quite frankly, disappointed, ashamed and embarrassed by all the bad behavior and empty rhetoric taking place in a country I so admired. It’s like finding out your favorite uncle wasn’t at all what you thought he was, that he actually deserved to be behind bars and not held in your high esteem.

But I haven’t lost all hope. There’s still a part of me that has faith in the wisdom and intelligence of the American people; that there are more who are good, kind and equitable than ignorant, hateful and prejudiced. There is still a part of me that believes that when the rubber hits the road, the America that I loved as a young Canadian girl is still there; that these great Americans will show the world that they are too smart to listen to the reprehensible rants of a carnival barker, to be influenced by fear mongering, and most importantly, to be duped by a spoiled charlatan with deep pockets, bad hair and a shallow devious mind.