(I originally posted this on facebook but I wanted to spread it around so...)
Dad Update: What a gift the time with my Dad was this week. I wish I could take a picture that would convey what happens when he opens his eyes and sees me. His face just lights up. He smiles and says my name. None of which I thought would be happening at this stage. But despite his memory issues, my Dad seems to be holding on really fiercely to the idea of me as his son. It seems as though my Dad will be just as happy to see me on the day he leaves this life as he was on the day that I entered it. And it gives him such pleasure just to see me and spend time with me, showing up is really all he needed me to do. So I’m very glad that I went.
Since returning, I’m constantly reminded of all the things I do each morning without even thinking that are out of my Dad’s reach. I can get out of bed by myself. I can walk to the bathroom. I can take a shower. I can use a toilet. I can wash and shave my own face, brush my own teeth and gargle. I can brush my own hair. I can dress myself. I can walk around my home without anyone’s assistance. I can prepare meals and feed myself.
When I was a baby and a small child, my father and mother would do these things for me, or help me as I learned to do for myself. If you’re a lucky child, there’s no way you could ever repay your parents for all the many things they’ve done for you. It’s a strange and rare privilege to be able to return the favor, even for a few days. Dad has an amazing staff of caregivers doing most of the heavy lifting for him. But just to be able to sit with him, and help to feed him or hold a glass to his lips so he can drink. It’s a very humbling thing to be given a chance to do.
The day I arrived in the afternoon, he was already pretty done in for the day, but he rallied a little just to be able to say hello. When I asked how he was feeling, he said, “I don’t feel like I get all that much out of my days anymore, son. And I don’t feel like the family gets much out of them either.” My stepmom Debbie and I visited him again at dinnertime. She feels it’s important to show up and help him eat then because it’s the lowest point of the day for him, energy-wise. The company and encouragement help.
The next morning, I accompanied him to what they call the Day Program, a huge room with all sorts of activities, access to an outdoor patio (during warmer weather), and big windows with beautiful views of the grounds. New England scenery is working overtime where they live. The challenge for Dad these days is by the time the nursing staff gets him up and fed and groomed and dressed and, via a Hoyer Lift, into his wheelchair for the journey off the dementia unit and down the hall to the Day Program, he’s pretty much wiped out energy-wise. It takes him a while to get a little bit of a second wind, or just to get his bearings. He wasn’t so much confused as just tired. So he didn’t get much into the day’s art projects, though the singalong grabbed his attention from time to time.
They serve lunch at the Day Program so they parked Dad and me at one of the big windows to look out on the grounds as we ate. Dad loves the view from that window. I started feeding him and they brought me over the New England version of a Philly cheesesteak (which was actually pretty close, and quite tasty). That led to a discussion of this great old hole in the wall place that Dad, my brother Mark and I used to go all the time for real Philly cheesesteaks, and some delightfully bad for you cheese fries. At the mention of this my Dad obviously latched onto a memory because he got a different kind of smile on his face. Debbie was introduced to this restaurant when Dad was first introducing her to my brother and me and she still remembers it - not her kind of food at all, but she was a good sport about playing along with the dining choice. I’m sure the place isn’t even there anymore, but we all carry it around in our heads still. At one point Dad said, “Now when I sit at this window it’s going to be even more special because now I’ll have a memory of having lunch here with my son.”
Every time throughout the day when I would leave him so he could rest, I’d kiss him on the forehead and say “I love you, Dad” and his response was always the same. “I love you, too, son. I’m so proud of you.” And even though he always asks about the two day jobs I hold down to pay the bills, and makes sure to get a full report, he always makes sure to ask about the writing I do if I don’t bring it up first. And when he talks about why he’s proud of me, it’s never the day jobs he mentions, it’s always the playwriting. He’s seen and read so many of my plays that he knows the kind of stories I write. And even though he can’t remember the details of them any more, he talks about them being important because they’re helping people to understand each other, and realize we’re not as different as we think we are. Even if there isn’t a new production of anything in the pipeline, I’m always writing, and he always wants to hear what I’m thinking about.
“I’m happy just to sit with you and listen to you to talk,” he said at one point. So I would sit and hold his hand, or rub his knee or run a hand up and down the side of his arm, because he found it soothing, and just be with him.
The last morning on this visit, I’ll admit I had a good solid cry over breakfast. And walking into Dad’s room that morning, seeing him with his eyes closed, laid out on the bed in the transfer sling they use with the lift, waiting for them to come back and move him, even though he was just resting, the visual brought me up short. Then I walked over, said good morning, and he opened his eyes and smiled at me, and on we went with the morning routine.
One of these visits is going to be the last visit. We just don’t know for sure which one it is, yet. This might have been it. But if he makes it to Christmas, and if we get more time like that at Christmas, that’ll be a good thing, too. And if this visit was the last one, then I know it made him happy, and that’s enough. The last several years, me buying a plane ticket was the major Christmas gift anyway. The man doesn’t need things. He just wants to see his children.
Sometimes, showing up is all you need to do.
Now we just see how many days are left, and make the most of each one we get. Thanks for keeping us in your thoughts and prayers, everyone. It means a lot.
Sunday, December 02, 2018
Friday, November 30, 2018
November Writing Challenge 2018 - 30 - Rewrite Someone Else's Play
THE THIRTIETH CHALLENGE
Rewrite a play of someone else’s
WOW
…
HEY!
…
You made it! (or you didn’t and
that’s okay too- no really it is I’ve only finished about half the time when I
try to do these. Kids, ya know? Life. Etc.)
If you’re not having fun, you’re
doing it wrong.
Why do this? Well, for me it goes
back to the essence of theater and promoting it as inherently an act of play -
even the writing of it!- dangerous, delightful, adult, play.
It’s a bit of a yogic practice to
be sure- good days and bad days- but it’s a mistake to try to hold back the
waters and pray that it all works out when the dam bursts. It’s much better to
live your life- idk why the water metaphor but--- building up muscles walking
next to the creative river.
Anyway- last challenge. Here it
is:
CHALLENGE: YOU. Rewrite a play of
someone else’s. From this challenge. From classic works. From whatever. Boil it
down to yourself with a sentence like “essentially this is a play about bad
bosses- just like when I worked at Groupon (or whatever).” Then rewrite the
play from your perspective, your life markers, yours and you and u.
Make it personal. A campfire
story about how you got here.
And… add a dream sequence in the
middle
Make it theatrical. Make it a
rain dance.
Then smack us back down into the reality
of the first part of the play.
Don’t forget to advocate for
yourself.
Don’t feel sorry for yourself.
Obama says “Don’t boo, vote.”
I say “Don’t bitch, write.”
I love you for reading these.
I love you for choosing an
artist's life. You are a leader in your community whether you feel like one or
not. Whether they express it or not, other (muggle) people know you’re
dangerous, powerful, and creative. They know you’re full of mystery and
potential.
Honor yourself at the end of
this.
Heal. Rest. Rest.
Celebrate it AS a thing. The end
product is YOU- not the writing. The writing can’t happen without you, being in
tune, doing that river walk (see above).
‘Til next year!
-Aaron
**********************
(I’m
trying to do a riff on Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya, with most of the genders
flipped. The young trophy wife is
instead a trophy husband, etc. So the
professor, GWENDOLYN, has come with her new younger husband JONATHAN, to summer
at the family farm of her late husband, now run by her daughter, OLIVE, and
former sister-in-law, CONSTANCE. The
local doctor, ESTHER, makes frequent visits.
OLIVE pines for ESTHER, but she has her eye on JONATHAN, and it may be
mutual. Which is even more awkward for
ESTHER’s friendship with CONSTANCE, for she also pines for JONATHAN. Right now, I seem to be in a meditative phase
where none of the characters are talking to each other; they’re instead
engaging in conversation with inanimate objects. And so it goes…)
CONSTANCE kneels by a bed of autumn
roses – a mixture of blooms in oranges and yellows and reds.
CONSTANCE
Such
lovely things. It seems a shame to pick
you.
The ROSES look to CONSTANCE.
ROSES
If
you live in there, and I live out here, how are we ever going to see and
appreciate each other’s beauty?
CONSTANCE
You
want me to cut you down?
ROSES
It’s
the only way I can be near you.
CONSTANCE
But
you’ll die.
ROSES
We’re
all going to die. Flowers soonest of
all. September is here anyway. Would you prefer I die out here alone in the
chill?
CONSTANCE
No,
of course not.
ROSES
Take
me inside, where I can be warm, with you.
Let me brighten your rooms.
You’ll tend me just as closely in there as you do out here. You’ll keep me alive as long as you can.
CONSTANCE
I
will.
ROSES
And
if there’s someone you want me to impress and watch over for you, I can do that
as well.
CONSTANCE
Beautiful
autumn roses – lovely, sad roses.
ROSES
We’ll
be less sad together. You could bloom as
well.
CONSTANCE
I
have the clippers. I’ll be gentle.
ROSES
Do
it quickly.
Oh! Oh!
CONSTANCE
I
have you.
*************************
OLIVE sits at a piano.
The PIANO waits impatiently.
PIANO
You’ve
dusted me and polished me. Now play
me. I’m not a piece of furniture. I’m meant to sing. But I need you to touch my keys.
OLIVE
I’ll
disturb mother.
PIANO
She
and her books can walk outside. We are
less mobile.
OLIVE
What
if I play badly?
PIANO
You’re
not liable to play well if you don’t play at all.
OLIVE
I
won’t offend you?
PIANO
You
only offend me by not allowing me to truly speak. I need your caress to set my voice free.
OLIVE
But
the whole house will hear.
PIANO
Let
them. The silence in this place is
suffocating.
OLIVE
You
seem so sad.
PIANO
There
is nothing sadder than an unplayed piano.
If you touch me, I’ll perk right up, I promise you.
OLIVE lays her hands gently on the
keys, but don’t press down to play the notes yet.
PIANO (cont’d)
Oh,
the warmth of your fingertips. I’ve
missed you.
OLIVE
I’ve
missed you, too.
OLIVE plays first one chord softly,
then another.
OLIVE (cont’d)
You
sound so lovely.
PIANO
We
sound so lovely.
OLIVE starts picking out a little tune.
OLIVE
You’re
magnificent.
PIANO
Dance
with me!
OLIVE plays the PIANO with abandon, not
caring who might hear.
***************************
JONATHAN finds the DOCTOR’S BAG, left
behind.
JONATHAN
The
doctor’s bag, but no doctor.
JONATHAN moves closer to the bag.
JONATHAN (cont’d)
It’s
not like her to leave her tools behind.
The DOCTOR’S BAG speaks up.
DOCTOR’S BAG
She
has another life.
When
not looking after human life, she cares for the trees.
For
that, I have no tools for her.
JONATHAN
I’ve
always wondered what she keeps in here.
DOCTOR’S BAG
Go
ahead and look. I won’t tell.
If
she valued her privacy, she wouldn’t leave me behind.
JONATHAN
If
you’re certain –
DOCTOR’S BAG
Take
a peek. You’ll kick yourself if you
don’t.
When JONATHAN still hesistates –
DOCTOR’S BAG
I
won’t bite.
JONATHAN reaches into the DOCTOR’S BAG,
carefully removing each tool and setting them in ordered rows next to the
bag. He notes the location and order as
he goes and arranges things in such a way that he’ll be able to reverse the
process.
Last of all, he pulls out a small
pocket flask for liquor.
JONATHAN
Oh,
doctor.
JONATHAN opens it and sniffs.
DOCTOR’S BAG
Mostly
still in there. It’s been a good
day. Only one person died. And they were old, and not in pain.
JONATHAN
Her
lips have touched this flask.
DOCTOR’S BAG
Yours should, too.
JONATHAN
looks around.
Piano
music can be heard in a distant room.
DOCTOR’S BAG (cont’d)
Nobody
here but you and me.
JONATHAN brings the flask to his mouth
for a small, gentle sip.
JONATHAN
It
burns.
DOCTOR’S BAG
Most
medicine does.
JONATHAN picks up the
stethoscope.
He puts the eartiips
in his ears.
He places the
diaphragm against his chest.
DOCTOR’S BAG (cont’d)
You
can hear better if it’s against your skin.
JONATHAN slips the diaphragm inside his
shirt.
It’s cold. It makes him jump just a bit.
Then he stands still to listen.
JONATHAN
I
have a heart.
Good.
I
wondered.
***************************
GWENDOLYN
sits, surrounded by stacks of books.
GWENDOLYN
My
brain used to retain a library of knowledge larger than this. Now bits and pieces, facts and quotations,
just keep slipping out one after the other, day after day. And I don’t know I’ve lost anything until
suddenly I’m reaching for a word and it isn’t there.
BOOKS
That’s
why we exist. To hold things for you,
for later.
GWENDOLYN
I
read you, but then it all falls out again.
BOOKS
Not
all.
GWENDOLYN
Some. More than I’d like.
BOOKS
That’s
why you keep us.
GWENDOLYN
I
keep you for vanity. So people know that
I’ve read you. I command you. That you’re up here in my head. Something they haven’t even touched, couldn’t
possibly understand.
BOOKS
No
one’s quizzing you.
GWENDOLYN
I’m
terrified. The blood coursing through my
skull, my heartbeat, it’s deafening.
Piano music is heard in a distant room.
GWENDOLYN
The
joy in that music mocks me.
BOOKS
It’s
only music.
GWENDOLYN
I’m
scared. I feel so small.
BOOKS
Come
here. Get lost in us for a while.
The BOOKS gather round and embrace
GWENDOLYN.
BOOKS (cont’d)
We’ll
keep you safe.
************************
ESTHER, wearing work gloves and carrying
a small bucket with gardening tools, walks up to a massive tree, towering out
of sight.
In its shadow, she finds a small
sapling.
ESTHER
Well
now, you’re not going to get a lot of sun here, are you, tiny thing?
SAPLING
I
keep stretching, but I can’t reach the sky and I can’t reach the light.
ESTHER kneels down beside the sapling.
SAPLING (cont’d)
It’s
been so long since anyone even noticed I was here.
ESTHER touches the sapling’s leaves
with a gloved hand.
SAPLING (cont’d)
It’s
been even longer since anyone touched me.
ESTHER
I
think the solution is just to move you about six feet to the left.
ESTHER gets out a small trowel.
ESTHER (cont’d)
I’ll
try to be as gentle as I can. I may not
get every single one of your roots.
You’ll have to forgive me.
SAPLING
I
can grow more roots, what I need is more sun.
ESTHER digs carefully around the sapling.
ESTHER
There
now. I think that’s got it.
ESTHER digs her hands into the dirt
around the SAPLING.
The SAPLING giggles.
ESTHER scoops the SAPLING up in her
arms, roots dangling.
ESTHER (cont’d)
I
dug a hole over here the other day, thinking I might need to move you.
ESTHER gently sets the SAPLING in the
hole, then fills in the dirt around it and pats it down.
SAPLING
It’s
so warm here. I’d forgotten what the
warmth of the sun was like. It’ll take
some getting used to.
ESTHER
There. That’s a start.
SAPLING
I
wish I could offer you shade as a thank you.
ESTHER walks over to the massive tree
while addressing the SAPLING.
ESTHER
You’ll
be able to someday.
Just
like this tree my father planted now shelters me.
ESTHER sits in the shade of the massive
tree.
ESTHER takes off the gloves and gets a
book out of her bucket.
The TREE speaks in a deep voice from
above her head.
TREE
Welcome
back, Esther.
ESTHER
Now
let’s see, where was I?
ESTHER reads, leaning against the TREE,
as the SAPLING wiggles in its new spot, settling in.
Piano music can be heard coming from
the house just beyond the woods.
November Writing Challenge 2018 - 29 - Lies And Asides
THE TWENTY-NINTH
CHALLENGE
Lies and Asides
Write a play where
one or more character speaks to the audience in asides.
Asides are always
truthful, so write lots of lies in the dialogue
Use dramatic irony-
if both characters would only open up and be honest with each other, the
impending tragedy would not be about to happen!
Asides are really
only in morality tales- sadly I believe. Prove me wrong!
Use life and death
stakes
Bonus: Make yourself
one of the characters- and the asides your most vulnerable thoughts. Change the
names to protect the innocent
(Hilarious. I kind of did this one already three days ago
as a gimmick in the parental time fluid prompt I posted. I’m reaching back into the 20/20 challenge
instead)
****************************
THE TWENTIETH
CHALLENGE
Write a play that has
a total budget of $20 and lasts 20 minutes
Sorry again for
delays. I DO try to keep ahead, but ultimately this is supposed to be a write
every day challenge (Thanksgiving you'll get to get ahead I promise).
If you're in a bind
and I'm BEhind, feel free to just email me with something written (that counts
as a theatrical event--- lights up lights down minumum- low bar!) and it's all
good.
Andrew Jackson is on
the $20 bill.
$20 is a common
low-end ticket price here in Chicago.
THE TWENTIETH
CHALLENGE
Write a play that has
a total budget of $20 and lasts 20 minutes.
Rules:
1.
It must utilize all
common theatrical design elements in a purposeful and theatrical manner.
· LIGHTS
· SOUND
· COSTUME
· SCENIC
· PROPS
2.
It must incorporate
each of the FOUR NATURAL ELEMENTS- water, wind, earth fire.
3.
It must last EXACTLY
twenty minutes.
4.
It should probably be
about Andrew Jackson, either directly or indirectly.
5.
6. The entire
production can cost no more than $20
Tips:
Assume the actor has
their own cell phone, which contains a flashlight function, camera, and working
speakers.
Fire from a lighter
is a good cheap trick.
You can set the play
anywhere.
You do NOT have to
operate within the law or acceptable audience-performer norms.
Intimate symbolism is
gonna be key here.
A pack of cotton
balls or toothpicks for 99 cents (or things like that) will be helpful.
Magic and sleight of
hand are always fun. (Who knew you spelled it sleight? Wow!)
**********************
Two
actors come out on stage dressed in T-shirts from the playwrights’ voluminous
T-shirt collection. One is in a
BASSACKWARDS USA T-shirt with the outline of America printed in reverse (as you’re
looking at it, California coast on the right, Maine on the left). One is in a T-shirt with the CAPTAIN AMERICA shield
on the front.
CAP
Dude,
get the lights.
BASSACKWARDS
Oh,
right.
BASSACKWARDS scurries over to the light switch on
the wall and turns the regular lights in the room off.
CAP and BASSACKWARDS then whip out their cell phones
and turn on the flashlight app to pierce the dark.
They each train the light onto their chests for a
moment to highlight their insignia.
CAP
It’s
the twenty dollar, twenty minute show.
BASSACKWARDS
Which
I guess means we’re not paying the actors.
CAP
I
don’t think the playwright’s getting paid either.
BASSACKWARDS
And
we certainly don’t have money for a director.
CAP
And
we only have twenty minutes, and a lot of ground to cover.
BASSACKWARDS
No
pun intended.
CAP
Oh
yeah, we’re supposed to cover the four elements, earth, air, fire and water.
Then CAP and BASSACKWARDS quickly pull out five
identical folding chairs from the playwright’s home (the sort that fold out
into fairly realistic looking straight back chairs, with the back upright
rather than tilted back, so they naturally look like a lower case letter “h”)
They arrange two of them on their side on the floor
in a configuration to look like the capital letter “F”
BASSACKWARDS
See,
if you will, the letter F, for fire.
CAP gets out a matchbook and lights a single match
dramatically.
BASSACKWARDS (cont’d)
Put
that out.
CAP does.
BASSACKWARDS (cont’d)
We
can’t afford to light anything on fire. Nor
can we afford a fire extinguisher to help put anything out.
CAP
We
have water.
BASSACKWARDS gets out a spray bottle full of water,
and sprays on the match, just for good measure.
Then sprays CAP in the face.
Then spritzes himself, as if with a fine cologne.
BASSACKWARDS
The
water’s for later and I’m not taking any chances.
CAP carefully sets the doused match aside, either
on the floor or in his pocket.
CAP
Backup
fire?
BASSACKWARDS
Backup
fire.
CAP
That
matchbook was from a set of 50 in a box that only costs $1.79, in case anyone
was keeping track.
BASSACKWARDS
Blew
nearly a tenth of the budget right there.
CAP
Well,
your spray bottle’s $1.98, so there’s another tenth of the budget.
BASSACKWARDS
Water’s
free.
For
now.
CAP
Most
of these clothes are ours. The T-shirts and
the chairs are the playwrights. This phone’s
mine, the other phone is the playwright’s – for upcoming sound cues, some of
which he owns, some of which we downloaded special.
BASSACKWARDS
And
we have my as yet still unpocketed phone for more magic.
CAP
Kinda
cheating, but don’t all shoestring theater productions.
BASSACKWARDS
Shoestrings
are ours, too.
CAP sets his phone down on one of the F chairs,
light pointing up.
BASSACKWARDS gets an orange sheet of tissue paper
out with a flourish.
CAP
Set
of multicolored tissue paper - $1.29
BASSACKWARDS gets a little plastic Scotch tape
dispenser out of a pocket with a flourish.
BASSACKWARDS
The
playwright already had some clear Scotch tape but a little dispenser full like
this only costs $2.19.
CAP
Yikes.
BASSACKWARDS and CAP work together to tape the
tissue paper in a cone shape over the phone to create some colored light.
BASSACKWARDS
Like
the campfires of old.
CAP
For
storytelling.
BASSACKWARDS
And
because it’s a $20 bill we have for a budget, we are also supposed to give a nod
to Andrew Jackson, the face on the $20 bill, and one of our most racist
presidents.
CAP
But
not one of our worst presidents.
BASSACKWARDS
Which,
honestly, doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.
CAP
But
we’ll get to that.
We
have four elements and only twenty minutes, roughly 5 minutes per element, so
we’re already cutting into somebody’s time.
BASSACKWARDS
In
honor of both of our themes, and we’re not cheating, I swear, let’s kick off
the sound cues with something that would really piss off Andrew Jackson – a group
of rich, award-winning black men singing.
That would be the group Earth, Wind & Fire, whose hit “September” we
just downloaded for $1.29.
CAP
Fifteen
second dance break!
BASSACKWARDS plays the song and the two of them
(and the audience if they like) dance during the intro. After the song proper gets going, the actors
return to the script.
BASSACKWARDS
Andrew
Jackson, slave owner.
CAP
Andrew
Jackson, the seventh President of the United States of America.
BASSACKWARDS
And
according to historians, considered on the second most racist president we’ve
ever had.
CAP
That
honor would go to Andrew Johnson, who became our 17th president after
Lincoln was assassinated.
BASSACKWARDS
His
Reconstruction proclamations gave amnesty, property and voting rights to all but
the highest Confederate officials after the Civil War, the return of property pretty
much nullifying the whole “forty acres and a mule” promise to former slaves.
CAP
Dance
break!
Actors and audience dance to the first chorus of “September”
– when the next verse kicks in, the actors continue:
BASSACKWARDS
Andrew
Johnson, also not a fan of the 14th or 15th amendments to
the constitution giving citizenship and voting rights to freed slaves.
CAP
Male
former slaves only though.
BASSACKWARDS
Yes,
still four amendments away from the 19th for the ladies.
CAP
Didn’t
oppose the 13th amendment abolishing slavery, though.
BASSACKWARDS
Yes,
let’s give Johnson his due. He just
pulled all black troops out of the South so the former Confederate states could
terrorize and kill African Americans back into submission – or off to the
North.
CAP
Dance
Break!
Actors and audience dance to the second chorus of “September”
But hang on, because it’s a -
CAP (cont’d)
Double
chorus!
Actors and audience continue dancing. When the next, very short verse, kicks in,
the actors continue:
CAP
He
vetoed both the Freedmen’s Bureau Bill and the Civil Rights Act of 1866.
BASSACKWARDS
Which
Congress passed anyway by overriding his vetoes.
CAP
Let’s
all pause to remember a time when Congress had courage.
BASSACKWARDS
With
a Dance Break!
Actors and audience dance to the third and final
chorus of “September”
But hang on, because it’s a -
CAP
Double
chorus!
Actors and audience continue dancing.
But hang on, because now we’re at the –
CAP (cont’d) and
BASSACKWARDS
Outro!
Actors and audience dance the song into fade out.
(total run time for the song 3:35, if anyone’s counting)
BASSACKWARDS (cont’d)
Andrew
Johnson was also the very first president to be impeached by the House of
Representatives.
CAP
But
he remained in office because he was acquitted in the Senate.
BASSACKWARDS
By
one vote.
CAP
In
addition to being considered our most racist president, is also considered to
be one of the ten worst.
BASSACKWARDS
Not
so, Andrew Jackson.
CAP
Only
our second most racist president.
BASSACKWARDS
And
regularly included in the top 20 of our best presidents.
CAP
Now
remember, we’ve only had 45, so –
BASSACKWARDS
Still,
he’s more often found in the top 10.
Second
most racist, still considered a lot of the time to be one of the 10 best.
CAP
The
most racist presidents, though, a pretty eclectic group.
Ronald
Reagan.
BASSACKWARDS
Welfare
queens, war on drugs, mass incarceration.
CAP
Franklin
Delano Roosevelt.
BASSACKWARDS
Japanese
internment camps, New Deal tilted to favor whites over blacks.
CAP
Thomas
Jefferson.
BASSACKWARDS
Slave
owner, breeder, rapist. Don’t get me
started on Sally Hemings. Great guy.
CAP
James
Monroe.
BASSACKWARDS
The
Monroe Doctrine – allowing for intervention and colonization in foreign, aka
inferior, countries. Classy.
CAP
And
that’s just the top six.
BASSACKWARDS
But
let’s not gloss over President Andrew Jackson, and what he did to the Indians,
aka Native Americans, aka the people who were here already when the white European
settlers started stomping all over the place.
So. Much.
Stolen. Land.
CAP has place another chair on the floor to turn
the F into an E.
CAP
Earth.
CAP then has to hurry and reconfigure the chairs,
possibly adding a fourth, to make a proper W, as BASSACKWARDS continues.
BASSACKWARDS
The
Indian Removal Act of 1830.
The
forced relocation of the tribes of the South to reservations in the west.
The
Trail of Tears.
CAP
Water.
CAP
takes the spray bottle of water and reverently sprays all around the space and
the W as BASSACKWARDS continues.
BASSACKWARDS
And,
again, slave owner.
BASSACKWARDS puts up big air quotes for the next
one
BASSACKWARDS
“Owned”
perhaps up to 600 HUMAN BEINGS over the course of his lifetime.
(and
I ran out of time, so much more material)
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