The End of an Era
“Mr. Adventureman, the papers you have ordered have come!” the manager of the Sultan Center would say, exultantly, to my clueless husband.
“I ordered papers?” he might croak.
“Sir! It is the coated paper for you to use in the microwave!”
“Aha! ” AdventureMan thinks, “my wife has ordered this.”
“Thank you so much!” he responds brightly to the store manager. “We will pick it up shortly!”
Raised with Alaskan frugality, storing for the future, letting nothing go to waste, never knowing when we will ever see (fill in the blank) again, I store my treasures, using them sparingly. Today, I smile ruefully as I use the last of the last roll of waxed paper from Kuwait.
I think microwave technology has improved. I don’t seem to use waxed paper to defend against food explosions as I once did. Or maybe I’ve just gotten smarter?
I’m not buying waxed paper – or a lot of things – the way I once did. I’ve never lived in one place for this long – a place where, if something runs out, I can get a replacement within an hour, or at worst, a couple days. It’s not like when taco chips completely disappeared from every restaurant in Doha for a month, or cream sold out in Tunis as the big Eid approached. The closest we’ve come to a shortage is during COVID, when people hoarded toilet paper for a short time. The lasting result is that my friends discovered the blessing of bidets.
Last month, I actually came close to running out of dish detergent. I have to laugh at myself; in my own funny way, I’m making progress.
“The Cruelty is the Point”
I was singing to the choir, complaining to my old high school friend about the tactics and strategies employed by the Trump administration, against immigrants, against the press, and against any citizen disagreeing with this administration’s viewpoint. “It all seems so intentional, so cruel,” I said.
“The cruelty is the point,” he responded. It was short, pithy, but that was weeks ago and I continue to ponder the phrase. I wondered why it sounds familiar – my friend used quote marks – so this morning, I googled it and got this very thorough AI response:
“The cruelty is the point” is a political phrase coined by The Atlantic staff writer Adam Serwer in a prominent 2018 essay. [1, 2]
Origin and Meaning
- Coinage: Adam Serwer used the phrase in his October 2018 essay, “The Cruelty Is the Point”. [1, 2, 3]
- Core Argument: Serwer argued that the policies and public behavior of the Trump administration and its supporters were not accidentally harsh or crude, but intentionally designed to cause pain to marginalized groups. [1, 2]
- The Bond: He wrote that inflicting this pain creates a powerful sense of unity, pride, and shared identity among political supporters, binding them together through common opposition to outsiders, immigrants, and minority groups. [1]
Book Adaptation
- Publication: Serwer expanded his essays into a book titled The Cruelty Is the Point: The Past, Present, and Future of Trump’s America, published in June 2021. [1, 2]
- Themes: The book examines how modern political conflicts connect to deeper historical currents in the United States, including white supremacy, migration debates, police unions, and the legacy of the Lost Cause. [1, 2]
Usage and Legacy
- Political Lexicon: The phrase became a widely adopted descriptor in political commentary to characterize populist movements, harsh immigration rules (such as family separations), and rhetoric directed at political opponents. [1, 2, 3]
- Broader Application: Analysts and commentators frequently invoke the phrase outside the Trump administration to describe political strategies that rely on outraging rivals and signaling hostility toward specific demographic or social groups. [1, 2]
The original article in The Atlantic states:
“It is not just that the perpetrators of this cruelty enjoy it; it is that they enjoy it with one another. Their shared laughter at the suffering of others is an adhesive that binds them to one another, and to Trump.”
I urge you to read the October 2018 essay, and the book. From the beginning of the second Trump term, from the the very first day with the horrifying Presidential Edicts, the cruelty has been increasingly woven into public policy. The policies are Anti-American, anti-immigrant, anti-women and anti-everything I was taught to believe as I grew up – That we are created and born with equal rights, male and female, black, white, yellow, red and all the glorious colors in between. “Red and yellow, black and white, we are precious in His sight.”
Our priest told us from the pulpit this week that we are “to carry the light.” Each one of us, individually and together, carries the light. We can choose to be kind. We can reflect “the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
If it’s August, it Must be . . . Halloween??
In the olden days, when we were Cold Warriors, guarding European borders from the evils of the Soviet Union, smart military wives started Christmas shopping in August. We knew we were up against deadlines; any gifts going surface mail needed to be mailed by mid-November. “Last minute” would need to be sent by Thanksgiving, or, horrors, the first week in December, but that is cutting it very close if you want your gifts to actually arrive in time.
You get so you start your shopping in January. We didn’t earn buckets of money, and we could do well by dollar-cost-averaging over the ten months leading up to Christmas. The bases all encouraged us to plan ahead, put things on layaway, make wise decisions – all year round. Knowing the barriers, the custom is to help the service people deal with the challenges of a life of – you know – service.
Finding Halloween had come to our Base commissary the second week in August, just as school is starting, was new to me. We are in the United States! We shouldn’t need to be thinking two months ahead for Halloween!
Pensacola is a Navy-centric community. We have Navy bases here, a solid community of Navy families and Navy retirees, and of course, the beloved Blue Angels. So I am wondering, too – where is the outrage? Where is the pushback when the leader of our nation tells the sailors and their families that they haven’t been in the Straits of Hormuz long enough? Where is the outrage when he dismisses complaints about food shortages, supply shortages, and mental health problems from being at sea for such a long time with no respite?
There are traditions against complaining, so if the grumblings are being heard, there is a real problem. Our military is used to self-sacrifice. It’s the nature of the service. If they are complaining, we can’t tell our military people to just suck it up. We have to listen.
This war has been going on for months, with countless declarations that the war is over and the Strait of Hormuz is open, only to discover, again and again, that it is not true. Over and over, it is another big fat lie.
Wrap it up, guys.
Finally, A Quiet Moment
We’ve had a rough couple of weeks, starting with an emergency visit to a local vet clinic on a Sunday, then two weeks of constantly surveilling our sick cat. In the greater scheme of things, it’s not such a big deal, we say “it’s a first world problem,” but it creates a whirlwind of extra activity and extra work. We have three cats, and now, three separate places for them. We have our normal activities, and daily requirements. It all adds up.
Two of the cats, including the sick cat, are used to hanging out together, so they don’t understand why they have to be separated. Most of the time, things have been OK. Except at night. No sooner are we all settled, maybe even drifting into sleep, when one or another will start yowling, and scratching at a door, and you’d think it can only go on so long, but no, it keeps going on until we re-arrange things, and it’s good for thirty five minutes or mabe even an hour and then it all starts again.
So we’ve not been getting much sleep, and all this is exacerbated by the worries we have that our sick cat is not getting better. Today is a good day, but we are still worried not everything has resolved, and we have not gotten to the root of the problem.
But today IS a good day. One cat is at my feet, the sick cat, snuggled up and relaxed, which is a really good sign. The other cat, the one that joined our family at the same time as the sick cat is just feet away, on a stand looking out across the Bayou. Or, more likely, he is watching a lizard. He is crazy for lizards.
Most of the time, AdventureMan and I are pretty chipper. This cat illness, and the amount of time it is taking to resolve, and the amount of work involved in keeping cats all separated, and three litter boxes, and cleaning and all the laundry, and lugging the sick cat to the vet for x-rays and treatments, begins to wear on us. We aren’t so patient, with ourselves, with each other. We are tired. We take turns grabbing naps during the day, during cat quiet times, like right after feeding.
I barely know what is going on in the world, except that the Strait of Hormuz is not open, and our allies continue to grow in mistrust of our leadership and our lack of serious purpose. I’m too tired to get roused up as I believe the same insanity is likely to be reigning tomorrow.
I’m just thankful for these minutes of peace, that the sick cat is relaxed and sometimes you have to take what IS and say that this very minute is good enough.
Sunday at the Veterinary Emergency Clinic
My normal Sunday morning is quiet and contemplative. I get up early, whisper a quick “I’m going to church now” to Adventure Man and head out to what we jokingly call The Express Service. It’s for the quiet people who want to worship without a lot of embellishments and move on. Our priests are very good at respecting people’s time and creating a serene atmosphere for worship.
On my bathroom mirror is an ominous yellow sticky that says “wake me when you get up to talk about Uhtred.”
Uhtred is seeping blood and pus on his left flank. We know there are no options, we dress quickly to get to the Vet Emergency Care before the rest of the world awakes – we’ve been there before. It’s the only game in town, and weekends are busy.
We sign in. As they take Uhtred to the back to give him a superficial exam, a man comes in carrying a huge dog – maybe 80 pounds – who does not look like he is breathing.
We are updated on Uhtred’s condition and moved to a small room. A tech came by with water and an update – due to an all-hands-on-deck emergency, less urgent cases are on hold, Uhtred being a less urgent case.
We wait six hours. During these six hours, I take a break to go outside and walk; walking helps me calm my anxiety and keeps me sane. As I walk, I see another prostate dog come in on a stretcher, and desperate people with cages arriving. We’re under a high heat warning. It’s affecting our animals, too. We’re all desperate. We love our animals, and this is the only emergency treatment center open on Sunday in town. The wait seems endless.
A very competent doctor comes in and gives us two options: a stabilization one where we get him to our own vet the next day, and a complete treatment one, where they get to him when they can, but there are higher priority cases, and they just keep arriving, and they won’t get to him until late in the day. We opt for stabilization; we’d actually prefer Uhtred be treated by our own somewhat eccentric vet who has known us for years, and has treated all our cats.
We leave the clinic in relief after six hours with a cleaned-up, medicated cat in an “E” collar (for Elizabethan) to keep him from licking his wound.
As we leave, something extraordinary happens, something we have never seen before. The clinic closes its doors to incoming patients. There is one doctor, and 40+ situations awaiting her attention. Until they can bring in more emergency staff, they cannot deal with more. My heart goes out to them all, those who are trying to triage and treat these desperate cases, and those who are turned away when there are no other options.
We have a family dinner later in the day, this one an adult-only dinner where we discuss family situations and discuss options. We love these dinners, meeting with our son and his wife quietly, relaxed and open. We make a great team.
My daughter-in-law tells me there IS another option, further north, where we can take our animals under emergency conditions, a place they really like. Another resource! I am so thankful; I’ve never heard of this place, and it relieves my future anxieties about our animal emergencies.
The Gift That Keeps on Giving
WordPress provides a prompt question every day and occasionally, I can’t resist. Todays is about the best purchase I ever made.
We were at a transition point in our lives, leaving the military, facing a temporary geographic separation (AdventureMan off to Saudi Arabia) and he said to me something I’ve always loved, that I’ve been a good wife and to buy a house any where I wanted.
I knew where that would be. I had a clever Mom who, every time I visited her, had set up a realtor to show us condominiums. She always said it was so that when they downsize, they would understand the options, but I also believe she had another agenda – to show me the options. Or so I suspected; my Mom often held her cards close to her chest and I would have to guess at her intentions. Whether or not she intended, she did sell me on the location.
AdventureMan drove one of our cars across the country and spent two days looking at options. He came back excited.
Then when he came back, we packed out everything we intended to keep and sent it to storage. Adventureman departed for Saudi Arabia and I kept working until our house sold, then moved temporarily to an apartment. I looked at a slew of places, and bought a house that looked very boring, but in the community I loved .
The house wasn’t as boring as it looked. What made it look boring was the wall-to-wall beige carpeting. Before I moved in, I had it all ripped out and had natural oak wood floors installed. It seemed horrendously expensive but it had a WOW factor – the house looked gorgeous.
I lived in the house for two years, AdventureMan and I having telephone dates and him dropping into town every few months for conjugal visit, LOL. Then, he got permission for me to live with him in Saudi Arabia.
We rented out the house. We’ve rented it out all these years, only one change in renters, never a single vacant month. I love the house still, and it was the best investment we ever made.
Within a few years, rental income had paid off the mortgage. Every year since then is gravy. We visit the renters now and then to check on the house; they are doing a good job at protecting those beautiful floors. They’d like to buy the house, but we have promised it to our son, who loves it too.
By far, the best purchase we ever made.
And Then – A Miracle Happened
In the middle of the night, with no crowd to celebrate, with no acclaim, The Affordable Housing Bill became law.
During a time when Democrats and Republicans can hardly talk to one another without spitting, 85 Senators, Democrat and Republican, joined 358 Democrat and Republican Representatives to pass a bill to help strapped young Americans get back into the housing market.
The President refused to sign the bill. He called it a “Yawn.” He said he wouldn’t sign it until the Senate and House agreed to institute the SAVE Act. He is attempting to create issues in American elections that don’t exist, to limit voting, to limit who can vote, and to make it harder for American citizens to vote. To emphasize his point, he fired the last two remaining watchdogs on the Election Assistance Commission. He FIRED the people who are in place to make sure our elections are fair and ACCURATE.
I guess he hoped nobody was looking, and that no one would care.
The President did not, however, veto the bill. My guess is that he was facing a revolution in his own party if he vetoed Affordable Housing. So he just let it slide.
He let it slide, and this adorable little bill, The 21st Century ROAD to Housing, supported by members of both parties (who, admittedly, want to get re-elected) quietly became law because it was not vetoed.
In truth, if the president had vetoed, the bill, the numbers are so solid that it would have passed again and become law anyway, but to have foregone that extra struggle, where anything can happen, another distraction, another unnecessary way, it is a small, very welcome, miracle.
Didn’t you learn in your high school classes that laws are made by clasping hands across the aisle? There is so much we all have in common. I believe that most of us have intentions for the common good.
This is a small step in that direction, clearing a small path forward of create common solutions by joining together. Get out the brooms! Clear these cobwebs of hate and chaos! Bring back civility!
Celebrate small miracles!
Celebrate the 21st Century ROAD to Housing Act.
How Do We Celebrate the 4th of July?
Today’s Lectionary provided a prayer for today, along with today’s saint, Saint Moses the Black:
PRAYER (contemporary language)
Almighty God, whose blessed Son guides our footsteps in the way of peace: Deliver us from paths of hatred and violence, that we, following the example of your servant Moses, may serve you with singleness of heart and attain to the tranquility of the world to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
It brought to mind a troubling conversation in a meeting with a group of women I greatly admire. One said “I’m having a problem with knowing how to celebrate the 4th of July without compromising my belief that our nation is on a very wrong path.”
In a brief discussion, we agreed that no one party owns the flag, or fireworks, that those are the influence-free celebrations of our freedoms, but that gatherings that involve political speeches and practices that support beliefs we find repugnant are contrary to our well-being.
I think we all came away from that discussion with a troubled sadness.
My family has a history of service to our nation. Much of what we have built, and what we have worked so hard to accomplish, has been wrecked. I love our nation, I love the American dream, I love the Statue of Liberty welcoming those who arrive with little but hope, and a desire to live free in a land of opportunity. I love our freedom to disagree with leadership and for the tools to fight unjust practices. I love that we have lived a life of service: serving our country, building alliances, and building a network that fights the evils of tyranny.
This morning, I put out our flags.
Alaska 2026: Homer Quiet Anniversary
This was a really funny day. The weather has changed, cloudier, foggier, damper.
We had a reservation for lunch again at Captain Pattie’s; AdventureMan had made it in advance for our wedding anniversary. We had a leisurely morning, starting to pack for our drive back to Anchorage, then heading down early to the Homer Spit where the Viking Orion was docked.
It was so funny being on the other side, watching the cruisers come into the little town of Homer, AK, doubling its normal population. We went down and took a photo; we can’t remember if we’ve been on the Orion before, but we have been booked on the same itinerary – three times – and never took the trip.
We had booked first for 2020. Ummm, yes, COVID nixed that. We had rebooked for the following year and then the following year, and none of those ships sailed. It was a trip from Japan, and at the time, through the Kamchatka Peninsula, which we really wanted to see, Dutch Harbor, the Aleutians, and then around the inner curve of Alaska, ending, I believe, in Vancouver, BC. We never took it. And here it was.
As we entered Captain Pattie’s, we were greeted by the wait staff that had taken care of us the day before, and had another lovely dinner, having salads and splitting a seafood linguine. It was all delicious.
I did not have King Crab again. After lunch, we visited the shops on the spit, ending up at Carmen’s Gelato, where I had the Chocolate Noir sorbet, very very dark chocolate, very intense, and AdventureMan had chocolate gelato. We sat in the parking lot overlooking the docks and ate our ice cream in bliss.
This was in the window of a shop on the Homer Spit. It totally cracked me up.
We try to have an easy day in each place we stay, and this was our easy day. We napped, we packed, we discarded. We thought through what we would get rid of now, and what we would leave in Anchorage.
We agreed that we got great sleep on this trip; the places we stayed were so quiet. It’s early in the season, and I expect the places will be livelier and noisier as the season goes on. We’re glad we came when we came.
What is amazing to me is how random all our good fortune has been. When AdventureMan said Alaska, and showed me the trip he had found, I just used those dates to plan our own version, and didn’t change a thing. It didn’t occur to me, and I wonder why? I love it that we traveled in comfort and privacy, and it cost us a quarter of what it would have if we had booked the group travel.
Education: Florida Ranks LAST in United States
My husband and I volunteer at a public elementary school. The teachers and administrators are heroes, battling a cynical Republican administration that increasingly limits public spending on education and local initiatives. This is a heartbreaking but accurate indictment. I ask myself why an administration would NOT want an educated population?
Florida schools rank last in new national report
ALAIJAH CROSS, TALLAHASSEE DEMOCRAT
Tue, June 23, 2026 at 4:06 AM CDT
Among other national education research institutions, the Network for Public Education ranked Florida last for its lack of commitment and support for public schools.
The network, a nonprofit advocacy group that promotes and researches policies supporting traditional public schools, has evaluated and held states accountable for how public education is managed and upheld.
With scores up to 100, each state was evaluated based on privatization, school finance, and student and teacher supports.
“The grades in this report are not merely academic assessments influenced by demographics or changing test standards. They are a measure of how seriously each statehouse takes its obligation to the children who attend public schools within its borders,” says the report, released through a press release.
Florida earned an F, with 14 out of 100 possible points earned.
“The states most aggressively redirecting public funds toward private alternatives were also the states most neglectful of their public schools, their teachers, and their students. Privatization and disinvestment, it turns out, go hand in hand,” the report adds.
Florida has steered billions in taxpayer funding to private school programs with limited oversight, a policy critics say disenfranchises public schools and the communities they serve.
Proponents contend that private school programs increase educational choice and competition, potentially improving outcomes for students and families seeking alternatives to traditional public schools.
A lawsuit filed by the Florida Education Association against the State Board of Education argues that traditional public schools must comply with a growing set of laws governing safety, staffing, student services, facilities and finances, while charter and private schools receiving public funds operate under significantly fewer requirements.
FEA President Andrew Spar said the last straw which prompted legal action was the 2026 legislative session.
“We saw bills that were going to address the massive teacher and staff shortage, address the pay and equity gaps that exist, address the funding inequities we have between public schools, charter schools and private schools; and lawmakers didn’t act on any of those,” Spar previously told the Tallahassee Democrat in May at a press conference.
Including Florida, 17 states received F grades, 13 states received B grades and 13 additional states earned a C grade. Seven states were scored a D and only two states earned an A, Nebraska and Vermont.
The report says: “States that most aggressively expand vouchers and charter schools are the same states that underfund their public schools, underpay their teachers, and provide the weakest protections for students. Our analysis found what statisticians consider a moderate/strong relationship with a probability of occurring well beyond chance between the expansion of irresponsible ‘choice policies.’ ”
Florida lawmakers reached an agreement May 29 on a $115 billion state budget, boasting a total of $21 billion in funding for education at a time when critics are calling out the state for chronically underfunding public schools.
For example the base student allocation, which is also considered “per student” funding, increased by $85, from roughly $8,900 to about $9,000.
After rising expenses, however, some say it isn’t an increase at all. With rising health insurance, supply costs and labor, advocates say the increase should be at least $1,000 per student.
Spar said the budget “ignores the needs of hurting communities.”
Florida has now ranked at the bottom of several national research reports on education, including the National Education Association’s listing on teacher pay, and the Education Scorecard’s state-by-state analysis on academic achievement.
“It’s no surprise that a failing woke institution would rank Florida, a national leader in education, last whenever possible,” a state education department spokesperson previously told the Tallahassee Democrat in response to its low ranking on the Education Scorecard in May.
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Early Voting in Florida
Here There and Everywhere 