Cookin’

My gut still says mail-in voting will lead to a Biden victory, but President Trump is fighting like mad, leading five rallies per day, a schedule that would be grueling for anyone let alone a 74-year-old.

I didn’t spot anything above the ordinary in today’s news, so here’s an excerpt from Killing that covers the presidential race of the early ‘90’s. It’s about a 15-minute read. Dante and Benny are carpenters at the Javits Center:

To Dante’s dismay, Bill Clinton, after allegations that nearly destroyed his candidacy, had rebounded and appeared to be the front runner. Dante wasn’t troubled by the revelation regarding marijuana, as men were apt to act foolishly when they were young. He would never condemn anyone for that. As long as the candidate wasn’t still smoking it, what did it matter? After all, how many politicians had drank to excess during their college years? How many still did?
Nor was he troubled by the influence the candidate’s wife had on him. Until recently, Deanna and he had been a great team. In fact, if not for her, he was certain he would have had considerably less to show for his life. She was smarter than he was; it would have been foolish not to have deferred to her as often as he had. If not for her, he might have never known any happiness. He might have been childless.
Nor was he troubled by the rumors of Clinton’s womanizing. Of course, Clinton may very well have had sex with the shameless woman who had come forward to gain the spotlight. What did it matter, however, if that fall from grace, which had occurred years ago, had been his only one? If he were really a philanderer, why weren’t other women coming forward in this age of dubious morality and anything-goes journalism? Did his mistresses admire him so much as to steadfastly protect his aspirations? To Dante, the accusation had no more validity than had Anita Hill’s claim, and did not justify public humiliation, especially if the candidate had been faithful since then. How many men would qualify for office if marital fidelity were a criterion? Hadn’t Franklin Roosevelt, regarded as the greatest president of the century, had a mistress? Hadn’t Dwight Eisenhower?
He wished the media would cease its coverage along this line, at least until it had substantial proof that the behavior was constant. He was irked at what passed for news these days. Word of President Kennedy’s promiscuity hadn’t reached the public until years after his death. Now, even the adultery of ordinary citizens garnered headlines, as long as there was a sensational angle to be exploited. Many argued that such openness, at least in terms of politics, was healthy. And others, to Dante’s chagrin, argued that a president’s promiscuity was of no concern to the general public. He found he agreed with this to a degree — if the public had already unwittingly elected a philanderer. It would be to everyone’s benefit, he believed, that it be kept quiet, as the citizenry should have the utmost confidence that its leader was, morally and ethically, above reproach. However, he doubted it would be hushed in this age where the risqué was pounced upon by the press and reported ad nauseum.
Dante had voted Democratic in every election in which he’d been eligible. He believed the party truly had the interests of the common man at heart. He now faced a challenge. How, in good conscience, would he be able to vote for someone who fudged on every question concerning his draft status, and whose evasiveness made it seem he had indeed shirked his duty as others had been making the ultimate sacrifice for the country? Clinton had remained on the sidelines, safe, reaping the benefits, avoiding the fight to preserve those benefits — and now he wanted to be Commander-in-Chief, the principal caretaker of the benefits he’d refused to risk his life to preserve? Shouldn’t this have precluded him from running for the highest office in the land? Had he any shame, pride or honor? Was he the best the Democrats had to offer? Where was Mario Cuomo? Where was Bill Bradley, the personification of team-man as a professional basketball player? Where was Al Gore, who had served in Vietnam? Why weren’t they challenging this man?
Dante was beside himself. In his view, there was no amount of service, of penance, that Clinton might have done to atone for his actions. A sinner himself, he could have forgiven any sin but this. He despaired at the thought of Clinton in the White House, occupying space that Washington and Lincoln had. The mere fact that he was running made it appear as if nothing were sacred in America any more. While he loved the way America allowed anyone to succeed, to redeem himself, he found some actions inexcusable. As far as he was concerned, Clinton had the blood of American servicemen on his hands. He wished the souls of all those who had fallen in Vietnam would rise and haunt the candidate until he’d withdrawn from the race.
“He can’t really win, can he, Benny?” he said at lunch one day, too troubled to eat. “We wouldn’t elect a draf’-dodger president, would we?”
Ben shrugged. “The guy keeps comin’ back. One writer compared him to that punchin’ bag doll we all had when we were kids. He bounces right up. He’s a proven winner, although we don’t really know that much about him yet.”
“A winner? How could somebody like that be a winner? You soun’ like the guys on TV who call these coke-head, cry baby millionaires ‘winners’ ’cause they can play ball. Is that what a winner is?”
“In the nineties it is, and maybe it’s always been that way. We’re a bottom line society. I doubt he’d hesitate to send troops into combat, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m sure he would. But does he got the right to when he wouldn’t go ‘imself?”
“He wouldn’t be the first. Most of us want other people to do the dirty work. If we ever wound up in a war, I’d want you in the foxhole with me, not somebody like him. But when it comes to political office, I don’t know. You think it’s fair to judge him on somethin’ he did twenty years ago, when he was a kid?”
“People expect me to go off ’cause I was in ‘nam twenny years ago. An’ this ain’t a little thing like smokin’ pot or bangin’ broads. I ain’t sayin’ he shouldn’t be a gov’nor or senator. If those hillbillies wanna elect a draf’-dodger, that’s their business — but president? He’s gonna send kids like mine into combat? No way, not unless he’s leadin’ the charge.”
Ben chuckled.
“I mean it, Benny. It ain’t right. Some things you can’t take back. They stay wit’ you your whole life, at least that’s the way it should be.”
“A lot of people were against the war. I don’t think it’ll hurt him unless the economy recovers very soon, and there’s no sign of that — and that means change. Remember what happened to Jimmy Carter? And things aren’t half as bad as they were then, although you’d never know it from the papers and TV. Sometimes I think there really is a liberal bias in the media, ‘though I’d hardly call it a conspiracy.”
“I can’t believe you’re a Republican. They ain’t for guys like us.”
“I’m a conservative by nature, but, as usual, I can’t really make up my mind. I’m afraid some Republicans wouldn’t bat an eye if the poor were starvin’ to death or riotin’ in the streets, or if industries polluted at will. Then again, if people’re healthy enough to riot, they’re healthy enough to hold jobs. Where do you draw the line? That’s the problem.”
“At people too crippled to help themselfs. At mothers whose husban’s croak alluva sudden an’ leave ’em wit’ nothin’. I’m a Democrat ’cause they always been for union guys like us.”
“Then why do they keep raisin’ our taxes?”
“They should tax the rich more.”
“If you confiscated all the wealth of the rich, it wouldn’t be enough to cover the spendin’ you’d need to pull everybody out of poverty. That’s already been tried in Russia. People need incentive to create jobs. That’s the only thing that’ll cure poverty. The government is the richest thing in America, but it doesn’t create any wealth. It just consumes it. It can’t pay its bills without taxin’ the middle class, guys like us. Like you said the other day, we work for them ’til May.””
Dante hung his head. “I dunno what to do. I can’t vote for this guy — I can’t. I’d be stabbin’ every guy who bought it or got crippled in ‘nam in the back. I can’t do that.”
“Vote for Bush. He’s a veteran. He volunteered, even though he was rich.”
He looked away, pained. “I couldn’t, ‘though I respect ‘im.”
“How ‘bout Perot?”
Dante made a face. “Who the hell’s he to alluva sudden run for president? Jus’ ’cause he’s rich? He ain’t paid ‘is dues.”
“How ‘bout Kerrey? He’s a decorated Vietnam vet.”
“He ain’t got a shot, though. ‘magine that — he’s the one who ain’t got a shot. It should be the other way aroun’.”
“If the economy doesn’t pick up soon, the Democrats are a lock. I just hope we don’t get hit in the wallet again. Clinton says he’s a new Democrat. I hope he’s not sayin’ that just to get elected. Even with Republicans in the White House we’ve continued to creep toward socialism. Are we gonna be takin’ even bigger steps toward it now? More and more people seem to want it, though, or at least they think they do. They want government to be a caretaker. We’re gettin’ away from the rugged individualism that made this country great. But maybe things can’t be like that any more. Maybe this’s just a natural evolution.”
“There’s nothin’ wrong wit’ the government helpin’ people who really need it.”
“Only thing is a lotta the people they were supposed to help are worse off now than they ever were. They’re addicted to hand-outs.”
“You really think he’ll get in?”
Ben nodded. Dante’s head rolled from side to side in frustration.
“Whattaya tellin’ me, Benny? This’s America. We do things right.”
“Most of the time, but that percentage seems to be shrinkin’ too. I hope I’m wrong. I’ll tell you, though, I don’t think his draft status is gonna matter at all.”
“It matters to me!”
Ben was startled by the vehemence.
“It matters to the guys who died or lost frien’s or lost arms an’ legs.”
Ben looked him in the eye. “I know this isn’t gonna be what you wanna hear, but I don’t think it’d factor into whether he’d be a good president or not. Look at the great work reprobates do in business, the arts and sports. Sometimes it looks like you hafta be a slime to succeed or get things done. And it hasn’t even been proven conclusively that he did dodge the draft. And don’t forget that this country was founded on dissent: ‘Taxation without representation….’ I practice dissent every time I’m in Jersey and shop to catch a break on the sales’ tax. Where would we be if the founding fathers hadn’t raised a stink? Dissent is good. It keeps you thinkin’, on your toes. And, if it’s right, it makes life better. One of the great things about this country is the multitude of opinions and watchdogs we have. Even groups like the ACLU and ACT-Up, as big a pain as they can be, make for a better society. And don’t be surprised if a lotta Vietnam vets vote for him. A lot are so bitter. In fact, you’re the only one I’ve ever met or heard of that isn’t bitter. Maybe that’s more evidence of liberal bias in the media.”
“I’m only bitter about how everybody looks at us. Everybody celebrated when the commies finally went down, but nobody ‘cept you gave us credit for helpin’ bring it off.”
Ben shrugged, apparently not knowing what to say.
“So you’d vote for this guy?”
“I don’t trust any Democrat, but the Republicans, especially the ones here in New York, aren’t much better, sad to say. Even Ronald Reagan, with all his accomplishments, couldn’t whip congress in line. Vietnam was so long ago. You say Clinton caused the deaths of G.I.’s by dissenting, but maybe he saved thousands of Vietnamese lives.”
“I know he did — Nort’ Vietnamese, who wound up slaughterin’ thousan’s’a Sout’ Vietnamese after we bugged out.”
“Maybe it’s time the country took a world view instead of a strictly national one. The planet’s gettin’ smaller and smaller. We have to find a way to co-exist, to work together for the survival of us all. That’s what the sixties was all about, outside of all the silly stuff that went with it. Maybe that was his intention in dissenting. And isn’t that a noble one?”
“You mean we shoulda turned the other cheek, let the commies run wild?”
“No. What I’m sayin’ is maybe he isn’t guilty of anything but idealism.”
“Tell that to the guys who bought it over there.”

For the first time since April, high winds had me seeking an alternate site for the book shop. It worked like a charm when the clouds rolled away as I was setting up the display. My thanks to the woman who bought a novel in Russian and a Better Homes cook book, and to Ann, who was thrilled to purchase a large tome in pristine condition by her favorite chef, Lidia Bastianich.

My Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/Vic-Fortezza/e/B002M4NLJE

FB: https://www.facebook.com/Vic-Fortezza-Author-118397641564801/?fref=ts

Read Vic’s Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza