January 20

Four years ago on this day, we gussied up and celebrated at the joyous wedding of our grandson, Eitan, to his beloved, Dita. This was a day long in coming.  Chatan and kallah had met in the Frisch High School and waited until after college to get married.  How beautiful was the bride! How handsome the groom!  The joy was palpable.  It was a warm and clear January day and all was absolutely perfect.   The ruach was heart-pounding and thrilling.

And the chuppah?  Built by my husband, painstakingly, lovingly, with incredible attention to every detail.  There were even “dry-runs” as the chatan’s four brothers descended on his workroom (aka our basement) and practiced carrying the chuppah down the aisle, a virtual aisle created by moving a couple of old sofas and some errant toys. A couple of near disasters at the actual wedding but, in the end, the chuppah was also absolutely perfect.  It stood majestic and proud, adorned with spring flowers and seeming to share the glorious glow of the brief moment in time when all was more than fine;  all was divine!

Who could have imagined that this young couple, this tzug ha tzair, would forever share their anniversary with the inauguration of Donald Trump as president of these United States?  Go know!

Our country, and our young couple, and all our progeny, and yours, and theirs,  stands on the precipice of who knows what?!  It’s a vast unknown, much like life itself, but this is more or less self inflicted. Not by me.  Not by Eitan and Dita.  Not by any of our family members at all. But, nonetheless, we all feel some guilt, as if we, you or I, could have, somehow and some way, found the magic formula that would teach those who supported this person’s candidacy how wrong they are.  Jam on the brakes.  Stop the madness.  Just say no.

We saw so many deterrents along the way that it was unimaginable that this day would come.  The man mocked heroes.  He defamed the famed. He boasted of depraved sex.  He was a business sleaze and with no love of country found it outside of his ken to serve in the military, which he now purports to respect and love.  He threatened.  He cursed.  He abused.  He insulted.  He was vicious.  He was defamatory. Inflammatory.  Illegal.  He was a racist.  He was totally unable to compose a sentence with a subject and predicate.  Syntax was not in his dictionary.  He was raunchy and cruel.  And he was elected. How?????

Some, even my very own chuppah building husband, thought he would become more presidential when the campaign ended.  Some thought his persona was more Hollywood than horrid.   Some thought he was a brilliant strategist who calculated what the people wanted and gave it to them.  But some saw him for what he is, and will always be.  The schoolyard bully.  The guy who can dish it out but can’t take it.  The guy with minimal brain power but maximum arrogance. Our president.  I taste the bile.  And I worry.

What if people who are violent can understand how unprepared our new leader is to lead?  What if they understand that he’s been staying up tweeting against major threats to America like the NY Times, Meryl Streep, NBC and various other Trumpabusers and ignoring real job preparedness.  Ignoring the briefings, teaching and the knowledge gleaned by so many loyal servants of our country?  What if there is an attack against our country and our new president is just not ready to be president, which we know to be true.  What will happen?

I don’t know.  I just want to go back to my wonderful memories of the real January 20th celebration, the day of love and peace and joy, Eitan and Dita’s wedding.  I can hear the powerful feet stamping as we danced and sang the night away.  That was a day of joy.  January 20th.  That’s how I always want to remember the date and the day.

About the Author
Rosanne Skopp is a wife, mother of four, grandmother of fourteen, and great-grandmother of two. She is a graduate of Rutgers University and travels back and forth between homes in New Jersey and Israel. She is currently writing a family history.
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