False Spring

Two cardinals and a small flock of house sparrows were the first to celebrate the arrival of spring on Wednesday morning. The sun was shining and rattling bikes scooted over cobblestone streets. Dogs and their people met at the corners without their winter jackets. The biting cold had passed and the buzz of warmth was in the air. Beer mugs and plates clanked at corner cafes like windchimes, and windows were opened to blow winter’s dust through the back door.

It was that time of year when the birds and the people should feel the energy of renewal, when fifty degrees is crisp in the shade and tropical in the sun, when people unzip their jackets and smile at each other in an unspoken agreement that the air feels special on their skin.

There were no agreements on that Wednesday, though, and it was only late February. The conversations at the cafe were hushed with a mix of alarm. The dogs were now barking aggressively across the street. A whistle in the distance directed traffic and a distorted megaphone voice seemed to be downwind and inaudible. Beyond the idyllic cobbles and historical homes a crowd gathered near the Liberty Bell.

Those days in late February were more like the beginning of the end. President Tee was only a month into his second term in a decade, and the world was already feeling the effects of a dismantled United States of America. The slash and burn approach of the federal government painted the sky pink, and close allies were questioning the commitment of the world’s most powerful country on earth. President Tee had somehow won the election but the pace and aggression of that first month smelled more like a coup. A massive power grab in case it all came crashing down.

In less than thirty days the United States of America’s international trust had eroded. Home raids were stirring images of countries in turmoil. Families were being split apart, sending a message, intended or not. Guantanamo Bay, renowned for its waterboarding, piss and imprisonment without trial, a symbol of horrific mistakes in the past, was now floated as a holding tank for 30,000 immigrants according to President Tee. Nevermind the symbology or please take note of the symbology.

The United States of America was no longer a country known for its embrace of an idea so simple as a melting pot. No longer revered as a refuge from religious persecution or political upheaval. No longer trusted.

This was President Tee’s message. “Stay away! You will not find a safe haven here, unless of course, you’ve been vetted for a gold card and speak good English.”

The “American Dream” had changed. President Tee continued taking advantage of the divide and buried his shovel deeper into the cavern with no regard for the fragile roots below. He chopped them. He kept chopping them. He told his people what to do and they did it no matter how spiteful, no matter how revengeful, no matter whom it hurt. When asked why he would say, “That’s what my people want. And by the way, everyone loves me. Just ask them.” He pointed in an oval motion to the newly hired help, and from the back a friendly face lobbed a softball to President Tee. He caught it like a pro and the room erupted into an applause that filled his heart with glee. The United States of America was on a new path, and he loved it for himself and he loved himself for it.