My dad and Donald Trump

I still kind of think all that. But that doesn’t explain my father’s support. Not at all. My dad was a brilliant man who detested any whiff of fascism—not just for appearances’ sake, but because it was anathema to him. He hated bullies and I always thought he had a real instinct for sniffing them out.

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Half my just-written eulogy is about him standing up to bullies in various courageous ways. Yet, the fact remains, he supported Trump. He thought Trump was the only one who could change things for the better. He believed reports that Trump is a very different person in private than his public persona (I countered that someone always makes that excuse for a bully). He thought the country was so far gone in so many ways that we needed a Trump. And he thought The Donald was what the political and corporate establishment (that word again) deserved.

“Trump will kick their asses,” he liked to say. My dad was a deeply fair man, and we were exceptionally close. I really just lost my best friend, but he didn’t care if mine was one of those asses to be kicked! My pop was just that kind of guy.

So, I apologize if there is no thrilling conclusion, no neat tie-up where I say “Aha! I get it!” I don’t. All I know is that my facile “only angry fascist idiots are for Trump” explanation is refuted, as the logicians say, by counter-example.

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