Skip to main content

An Open Letter to Senator John McCain

This post is an open letter to John McCain—usually this blog is dedicated to the “Writer’s Life.” To an extent it still is since writers are people and, so I tend to write about my experiences, even those unrelated to writing because those experiences are a part of this writer’s life and often influence my writing which though I write fiction, that fiction is, more often than not, informed by reality. So here goes.

Dear Senator McCain:

I am begging—yes begging, and normally I’m too proud, too arrogant to beg but in this instance, there is too much at stake, too many people at risk to stand on pride—John McCain to change his mind and vote against Trump's tax bill. As Mr. Spock said in one of the Star Trek movies, “The needs of the many outweighs the needs of the one.”


We lost our father, a veteran, and a good man to cancer on November 8. He had access to healthcare. And, we did not have to worry about the cost of his care—even if we had to pay out of pocket, we had him covered. That is not true of a lot of hard-working Americans, I know. So, I am grateful for that. And that is the underlying reason for me writing this blog post—I hope to make you realize the egregious, and, ultimately unforgivable error, of your deciding to support Trump’s horrible tax bill, which will raise the deficit, cause the collapse of our social safety networks and cause untold millions to suffer and die from their inability to access healthcare. You’ve said the bill is “imperfect,” but stopped shy of speaking the truth: that it will destroy the financial stability of the poor and middle class and cause many to die from inaccessibility to healthcare. Can you really die with that on your conscience?

My dad was a quiet, humble man, and I would never exploit his memory. But he was a veteran who fought in Korea for all Americans—so I think he would forgive me for this. I’ve attached pictures of him here because I think it’s harder to make a wrong decision when you see the faces of the people your vote could negatively impact for decades to come. I’m sure it’s hard to face the end of your life, but you have an opportunity to improve the lives of many others by voting no on this tax bill. That is a legacy. Surely, a better legacy that dying knowing you condemned countless millions of hardworking Americans to death to further line the pockets of the richest 1 percent.

Senator McCain, I ask—no, I beg—you to do the right thing and vote against the tax bill being pushed by Trump and his corrupt administration.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Fatherless Father's Day

I remember the accident as if it was yesterday.
I had been living in Washington, D.C. for three years. That particular morning, a Saturday, I was running late for work. It was a gray, wet morning at the edge of Winter. Heavy rain, like molten white gold, fell from an aluminum sky as I blazed along at 80 mph. A gray car merged onto the roadway from the right, then proceeded to move into my lane without signaling. The car was moving so slowly it looked like it was moving backwards. I pressed the brakes hard, pumping steadily with increasing pressure, my right hand tight on the gearshift ready to down shift. Realizing collision was inevitable, I glanced at the speedometer: 60. The impact sent my little car spinning towards the concrete divider separating west-bound traffic from east. The world seemed upside down. I remember thinking, I’m going to die and I never got to be friends with my father. I glanced up at the sky, oddly unafraid, and I swear I saw the hand of God reach down and stop…

Saying Goodbye to My Dad

Today at 10:31 a.m., my dad closed his eyes for the last time. When he did, a part of me died with him.
I’ll accept your condolences but please check your religion at the door. And don’t talk to me of your God and His wisdom and mercy. Not today. Not today. I believe in God, I do. But not today. Not today. Today, I feel He abandoned me and my father when all I could do was hold his hand and rub his head and tell him I loved him; when all his doctors could do was increase his pain medicine and escalate the frequency with which he received them, and swab his mouth with plain gelatin to make up for the water he could no longer drink, the food he could no longer eat.
The first time I, went, alone, to visit dad in the hospital, I arrived in his room while he was still downstairs in radiation. A nurse walked in and asked who I was.
“I’m Larry, his middle son.”
“Oh, you’re the one who lives in Philadelphia!”
“Yes, how did you know that?”
“Your dad talks about you. He talks about all of his…

In a Season of Excess

I am troubled by the times we are living in. We have a Trump-driven, GOP-supported tax “reform” bill that is nothing short of a massive transfer of wealth from the poor and middle-class, who comprise 99 percent of the U.S. population to the richest one percent. Over the weekend it was revealed Senator Bob Corker changed his “no” vote to a “yes,” after a tax break that would hand him a windfall of millions was snuck into the bill.
As I ponder the current climate, a season of excess, a world where greed is its own reward, and robbing the poor and middle class to enrich the already wealthy drapes the robbers in gilt-edged robes of glory, I am deeply disappointed. And afraid.
Sure we’ve seen this before, most recently in the Reagan area (who can forget Nancy Reagan wearing red and ordering 4,370 pieces of Lenox china (enough place settings of 19 pieces for 220 people) at a cost of more than $210,000? Who can forget the halcyon days of “Dynasty” and the Carringtons, and “Dallas” and JR Ewing…