Last Sunday around midnight, I was awakened by a noise I’ve never heard before. My husband checked it out and explained to me that it was the sound of paintball rounds piercing through the large Trump sign in front of our house and hitting our front door.
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Of course, it was no surprise.
In the course of formulating my reaction, I find myself on a pendulum between gratitude and satisfaction. Grateful that this expression of hate was not more extreme, such as what is going on in some parts of the country where I have lived. I also enjoy an ironic validation of my decision to leave those places. It was wise to choose New Hampshire, which has proved to be more insulated from the worst of the violence and destruction.
I have lived in Washington, Oregon, and Arizona. I still have family and friends in these hotbeds of Trump Derangement Syndrome and Marxist-ingrained envy.
While I understand why Americans everywhere counter with support for police and military, this incurs a dangerous trust in authority.
Just ask the people of Australia and New Zealand.
My support for government men with guns is reserved for OathKeepers who vow not to follow orders enforcing Covid-tyranny and gun grabs.
My admonishment to all: acknowledge your emotions consciously and when you notice fear and anger, avoid the temptation of illusory safety. Guard your freedom fiercely with the vigilance that the original New Hampshire settlers paid to buy us the prize of liberty, not the hazard of security.
