I posit that it is impossible for someone suffering from a potentially terminal illness to be a narcissist; in fact, I’ve learned that dealing with one’s potential immediate mortality will smack the smug, self-assured, self-important face right off your head.
All of us are merely a speck on a speck rotating along with other specks around a speck in a vast, immeasurable universe; in that boundless expanse, each of us, individually, have the same amount of power and influence as a gnat in a hurricane.
Recently, I got hit with another health setback. My medical team, led by Dr. Jeremy Wells successfully treated the mouth and throat cancer; it’s gone. The pain involved in the treatment is beginning to wane, and I hope to be back on solid foods in a month or so.
Ah, but the best laid plans…
We were ready to pop the champagne cork, but the results of the latest PET scan dampened the celebration; we ran the cancer out of my mouth, but it fled and took up redoubt in my lungs.
For me, it is just another battle that looms, I am ready to keep on fighting, but, boy what I would give to be able to enjoy a nice, rare prime rib paired with almond sauteed asparagus and a slice of apple pie!
In this journey, I have learned that time leads the pack in terms of all of the things in the world that are truly priceless; that is especially true when you don’t know how much of it you have left. Time is like an ATM card that spits out money, but doesn’t give receipts showing the new balance.
One can have all the money, all the know-how and all the ambition in the world, but if you do not have time, then you really have nothing at all.
We say “no one is promised another day” with conviction, but the truth is that we say that in the abstract when the reality is we can’t imagine a world without us in it.
That is why I feel a sense of pity for people who become obsessed with things they have very little power or influence over to such a degree that they become toxic in their relationships. They waste more time than a Senate sub committee fretting over things that are, in reality, of miniscule importance to them in the grand scheme.
What I have discovered is that most of those people hide their own self-doubt and loathing behind that omnipotent smirk and not-so-clever protest signs. Members of the Westborough Baptist Church are rightfully shunned for their outrageous signage and vile protests of veteran funerals, while those espousing equally ridiculous left-leaning slogans and burning down buildings are, in some quarters, showered with adjectives such as “brave” and “courageous.”
People like to point to the politicians and lament how undignified people like Rep. Al Green can be, waving a cane in the hallowed halls of Congress while heckling and interrupting the president. Unfortunately, these same people missed a few chapters in American history, especially those chapters where firearms got involved.
Looking at the big picture, it really wasn’t that long ago when Rep. Preston Brooks of South Carolina attacked abolitionist Massachusetts Sen. Charles Sumner at his desk in the Senate Chamber, beating the senator with his walking stick and rendering him unconscious and bloodied on the floor.
American politics have always been rough and tumble, but this is the first time in history that the shenanigans happening in Washington, D.C. are constantly displayed and broadcast in front of the entire population to consume like a fine madeira.
At the president’s speech to the joint session of Congress, the most astute among us didn’t even have to watch very closely to see the body language and recognize what they saw was nothing more than political theatre. And poorly stage-managed theatre at that.
Of course, after the drama on the floor came the endless corps of propagandist pundits with their all-knowing analysis of what everyone had already watched live. Sean Hannity, Rachael Maddow and that paragon of pomposity panels, The View, all gave their takes with the same amount of sweaty sanctimony as a Southern tent revival minister in the sweltering heat of the summertime.
It seems that only the straw hats have become passe, the rhetoric and vitriol keeps getting ramped up to please the ratings god and keep those six-figure paychecks rolling in. Come to think of it, on the night of the speech, the Democrat side of the chamber looked like a bunch Pentecostals before the invention of ceiling fans, waving their hand held fans furiously while hoping no one other than Mabel noticed the run in their stockings.
In my opinion, the constant flow of “information” along with increasing violent rhetoric by our so-called leaders, is not healthy for our society, and it seems to have desensitized a large portion of our countrymen, on both sides, to the degree that families are “cancelling” holidays and drawing lines in the sand over things they have no control over and really have very little importance with the average person’s daily life.
That oversized pothole down the street that the local government ignores will cause most people more grief in daily life than all the illegal immigrants in Idaho, yet people will drive on a spare tire to get to the latest protest for the Palestinians before ever going to their local commission meeting and asking for the pothole to get filled before they lose another tire.
Over the years, I have even heard people opine that they advocate seeing the White House get bombed, and the sensation I feel when I hear that is pity for the person who would make such an outrageous comment in polite company.
The last time someone made that comment in my presence, they were referring to foreign aid being cut to Ukraine, a country with a bloody and convoluted past that most Americans know very little about and remains a place with a dubiously unclear future regardless of how many handouts the country’s military receives. Yet, armchair international political paradigm scholars follow whatever talking points they are given in advance with which to demonize anyone who might disagree with whatever they were told their stance ought to be in regards to the country who’s prior claim to fame was giving the world the worst nuclear catastrophe in human history.
And no, the first time someone made that ignoble statement about bombing the White House in my company happened not during the Trump era but the Obama administration.
When bustier clad elderly Madonna said it as some form of political protest against Trump, she was doing what she is famous for, recycling someone else’s shtick while flashing her underwear to varying results; however, it really concerns me that an otherwise educated and grown adult would make such a juvenile and ridiculous comment.
Really, folks, do the people who say these things think about how many innocent lives, people who work in the White House and have nothing to do crafting public policy, would be mindlessly lost in such an attack?
I shudder to think that other people could approve of something so cruel, and I would rather believe that they are just spewing invective without putting any real thought to what they are endorsing; but, then I see people on social media posting words to the effect that the next person who attempts to kill Donald Trump “needs to have better aim.” Did this person not know, or not care, that another human being, an American like them, did lose his life in that brazen assassination attempt?
I makes me wonder if some among us have not lost all sense of compassion in favor of the zealous feeling of superiority to others. It, to me, is nuclear-powered narcissism.
Of course, it is easy to spout such noxious nonsense when hiding behind an avatar, but now people don’t mind putting a face to such a statement. I have found that the worst of these offenders are the ones calling themselves “woke” and “anti-fascist,” these people claim to support tolerance by being intolerant and wear the black uniforms that are strangely similar to ones worn by the “fascists” they claim to abhor.
One of my most cherished friendships is with former Commissioner Ben Hasan. I am pleased to have known Ben for decades. In terms of political philosophy on local matters, we have the same aims, we just disagree on the pathways to get there.
Ben and I both can get passionate discussing how the government in Augusta should be structured and Ben is the first one to pick up the phone and let me know if he thinks I might have gone a little too far in my writing; but in all those years, we have never had an angry or contentious conversation. We just agree to disagree, you know, like adults.
Ben would take a bullet for me, I know that; sometimes he doesn’t like what I have to say, but he fights on the side that gives me the right to say what’s on my mind, as do I for him.
I would not suggest cancer as the cure for a misguided and over-inflated ego, but I think everyone could benefit from being knocked down off their carefully constructed pedestal from time to time and be forced to climb back up on their own.
When we can look at the person in the mirror and be comfortable with the flaws we see broadcast back, we gain back some of that sense of humility we all were born with, and the result is kindness. In my experience, random or planned acts and thoughts of kindness releases just as many endorphins as a decade’s worth of meditation.
I want to think that people have the propensity to be kind and be humble towards each other, recognizing that while we are all peers, no matter what catchy screen name we come up with, we are also just specks with a finite amount of time at our avail for the good or evil of which we are capable.
The notion of mine that kindness runs in our DNA was clearly made evident to me when I put out a little statement on Facebook telling my friends that if they really wanted to help a brother out, then they could pick me up a four-pack of Ensure Complete the next time they were at Walmart. That brand of protein shake has been my primary diet since last September, although I have since graduated up to bisques and broths.
The poor UPS driver on my route must have been as confused as the dickens to be delivering case after case of the pricey shake, day after day. Cases upon cases of the drink arrived with many (if not most!) sent by people who do not know me personally, but just decided to help out someone else at a time when even the price of eggs have become outrageous.
Famed anthropologist Margaret Mead wrote that evidence of when civilization first began to form was the discovery of a healed femur, or arm bone. Mead contended that humans left the animal kingdom when they began caring for their wounded. Unlike animals that leave their injured or infirm behind, alone to face the elements and predators, humans are supposed to have compassion and care for each other.
Am I virtue-signaling? Sure, why not; after all, kindness is a virtue.
Keep on fighting the good fight, folks, and don’t give up. Never, ever give up!
Scott Hudson is the Senior Investigative Reporter, Editorial Page Editor and weekly columnist for The Augusta Press. Reach him at scott@theaugustapress.com
