Liberty Drip

I arrived at the airport in Bozeman, Montana. I check in. I go through security and the surgical metal in my right knee gets picked up by the machine. A man touches me. I’m part of a group of eighteen travelers, thirteen of which are teenagers, two of which are my daughters. I am not wearing shoes. I turn and a female TSA agent is about to touch my daughter. I rush up to make my presence known. My daughter is fourteen years old. We move on to the next indignity. I am called aside. They ask questions about my wife’s carry-on. There are a lot of things in there. Are they all mine? No, they are for five of the people in the party.  The guard is particularly focused on a small jar of huckleberry jam. (Yes, huckleberry is a real thing and it is delicious.) It’s wrapped tight in bubble wrap and she can’t get it open. I tell her to use the scissors if she has to. She does. Sure enough, huckleberry. I videoed the violation of my privacy. I repack my bags. I am in a bad mood and I still have th

I had to walk into my bank today to have a document notarized. Good thing I made an appointment. The other customer who was there, like me, at one minute before opening time was not so lucky. She was sent away. She would have been the second customer in the branch. I’m not sure if the bank would have gotten in trouble for letting her in, but I did hear the banker tell her she was not allowed into the branch without an appointment. She had the mask. It matched her outfit. Bless her heart. I asked if I would need an appointment to access my safe deposit box. The banker said no, just walk right in. I don’t have a safe deposit box there but I’m glad exceptions to the rules of stupid can be made.   We are still being told by the guessers in charge that we should maintain social distancing, not shake hands and not go inside some places or outside anywhere. Unless you want to protest your local police, in which case, get out there! I wonder why many states and the federal government, who have

I was in the third grade the first time someone called me a Cuban and meant it as an insult. One of my classmates showed up to class with two broken arms and no front teeth. He’d been in an ATC accident. In case you don’t know, ATC stands for All-Terrain Cycle. They were similar to the big four-wheeled ATVs that are popular today but had only three wheels. They were tricycles on steroids. They became illegal at some point because people were getting hurt. Thank you, Big Brother, for always keeping us safe. I asked the kid if he fell and he said, “I ain’t no Cuban. I flipped!”  To which I replied, “At least I have all my teeth and both my arms.” This kid was a jerk. He and I would continue to have run-ins throughout the rest of the elementary years. I don’t think I ever saw him again after that. I sure hope his teeth grew back. My junior high (middle school to you youngsters) was a private school in a predominately black section of Dade County known as Carol City. Most of the kids in my

MAY 23, 2020: I began to write this piece and never finished. Full disclosure: I work at home. My business has been affected by the illegal government shutdown of “non-essential” businesses, but I am still getting by. My wife is apparently an essential person, too. She is working from home as well. Our income has taken a pretty severe hit. We’re losing about sixty percent of our income. Our daughter, who worked her tail off to graduate high school a year early, has been denied her prom and her senior class trip. She is lonely and distanced from her friends. This is harder for all of us because she will be leaving for college in the fall.  Our government’s severe overreaction to the Coronavirus has resulted in a 26% unemployment rate. What is this doing for the mental health of the people who were struggling to get by? How many people will commit suicide when their economic situation becomes unbearable? How many already have? How many marriages will crack under the strain? Any statisti