Two Elections And A Look Of Pure Evil

In 1974, at the age of twelve, I was elected president of the Temple Israel Elementary Sunday School. My campaign strategy was to hand out candy to every kid, from the little first graders to my fellow sixth graders. Then I’d tell them my name, have them repeat it, and ask for their vote.

Sleazy, simple, and effective.

I won in a landslide.

I had a single task as president–– to whip up the kids’ enthusiasm to raise money for the Temple through the annual raffle. The kids, including me, took raffle books home and became miniature salesmen, encouraging our parents to buy great quantities of tickets.

The grand raffle prize was a tabletop black and white Magnavox television set that would have retailed for about $200 in 1974, equivalent to well over $1,000 today.

The raffle drawing was a big deal. The auditorium was full. All the kids were there as well as a fair number of parents. The rabbi introduced me as president to an absence of applause. Nevertheless, I felt like bowing. I was an honored dignitary, and yes at twelve I was that type of kid. (All that confidence disappeared with the arrival of puberty.)

The rabbi placed a big bowl of raffle tickets in front of me. I made a great show of holding one hand over my eyes and thrusting the other hand deep into the bowl to pluck a ticket.

The winner, I announced, was David Roberts. “That’s me!” I said. I was delighted because my parents had told me that I could have a TV in my room if I paid for one myself.  

The impropriety of selecting my own ticket as the winner never occurred to me. Smiling, I cradled my precious television set, exited the stage, and walked the few blocks home.

If there were any suspicions about whether the raffle was rigged, I never heard about it. I knew it hadn’t been, and I had my own TV.

Anger Management

I used the memory of my raffle story this week as a pleasant distraction from politics and the 2024 election. Elon Musk gave away million dollar checks, I gave away candy corn.

Distracting myself with a pleasant memory, like a bedtime story designed to calm, is one of my coping mechanisms to deal with my angrophobia, my fear of being angry. When I’m angry, I worry about losing control, and since I rarely allow myself to lose control, I swallow my anger, which feeds my stress.

And if my anger does slip free from its leash, if my mask of equanimity falls away, the after effects are remorse and self-recrimination. Expressing my anger invariably makes me feel worse.

A look of pure evil

My wife Deborah and I just celebrated forty years since the day we met. Naturally, we’ve had our share of fights. I wrote about one of them earlier this year, A Fight Reveals the Fault Lines In My Marriage.

It’s long been the case that if I show my anger at Debbie by throwing a certain look her way, Debbie is devastated. That look is “pure evil.” Sometimes it will make Debbie cry, and she will say that I have “broken her heart.”

I hate giving her that look. Whatever she did or said to annoy or upset me becomes insignificant compared to the pain I’ve inflicted. I then work hard until I’ve convinced her that my involuntary look of “pure evil” is the exception to the rule of our relationship.

Because when she’s unhappy it’s impossible for me to be happy.

The Election of 2024

I very much did not want Donald Trump to be elected. His election violated my concepts of justice and morality. I felt strongly enough about Trump’s defeat to commit far more resources than I ever have in any other election. By a wide magnitude.

As the election grew closer and it became clear that Trump had a good chance of winning, I started to fear that his election would make me angry. I didn’t want to be angry at Donald Trump and all the other people involved in his campaign. I certainly didn’t want to be angry at half the voters in the country.

The day before the election I posted a Note on Substack quoting from Lincoln’s Second Inaugural: “with malice toward none, and charity toward all.” If Lincoln could implore his countrymen to adopt that attitude near the end of the horrific and bloody Civil War, I could adopt that attitude for an election.

Another technique I used was to look for silver linings in case Trump was elected. I thought of policies that Trump might pursue that could be an improvement.

For example, I’ve long been skeptical about our strategy in Ukraine. It was the subject of my very first post in April 2022.

The gist is that we’ve committed just enough resources to keep a horrible and devastating war going but not enough to give Ukraine a chance at victory. Such ambiguity seems like the worst sort of foreign policy. I’m hopeful Trump might bring a different and better approach.

As for all the awful things Trump might do, rather than stress about them now, I’d prefer to wait to see what he actually does. No political figure operates with a greater divide between his words and his actions than Trump.

Trump’s past general lawlessness and in particular his despicable treatment of women is impossible to forgive. Okay, I don’t forgive him. But what then?

Should I hope he suffers some awful fate? Should I hope that his policies are terrible and harm my country? Both hopes seem unworthy of a patriot and in conflict with my moral compass.

Should I shun people who voted for Trump or couldn’t bring themselves to vote for either candidate? If I did, that would deprive me of the company of some people I respect and care for. It would also push me deeper into an echo chamber where I would not be exposed to heterodox ideas. Inevitably, that would make me more stupid.  

I’ll add one silver lining from the overall election. In the blue wall state of Michigan, which Trump won by one and a half points, there was an open Senate seat. The impressive Democratic candidate Elissa Slotkin managed to win by a hair’s breadth, defeating Republican Mike Rogers, no pushover. I was proud to support Elissa Slotkin’s campaign.

Elissa is 48 years old and has a limitless political future. There are others in that same generation of leadership that give me a great deal of forward hope. Elissa and her peers will be around to influence our politics long after Donald Trump is gone.

One size does not fit all

I’m not suggesting my approach is appropriate for others. If anger fuels you to be productive or if releasing your anger makes you feel better, then so much the better for you. I wish I was more comfortable dealing with anger. 

I could speculate on why I fear anger so much (mother, unpredictable rages) but I’ll leave that for a future post or for sessions between me and my therapist.

As for Trump, I will keep an open mind and a wary eye. And if and when I have opportunities to  oppose that which I find insupportable, I will do my part.

Question for the comments: Whether you supported Trump or Harris or neither, how have you reacted to the election?