What if your name was “Trump”, or what if you were associated with someone who’s name is “Trump”?
A True Conversation (Part 1)
This is an approximation of a true conversation I had with friends from High School. The names have been changed so no one attempts to sue me.
High School Friend: You remember Angela Reinhold, right?
Friend: Angela Reinhold. You know. Angie.
Me: I don’t think I knew her.
Friend: You sat beside her in English class, remember?
Me: Uh … no …
Friend: And you took her to Jim Kline’s party.
Me: I did?
Other friend: Yes, you did. I remember you coming together.
Still another friend: It was only the one time, but you for sure sat beside her in class. You two talked all the time!
At this point, I was forced to concede that I did indeed know Angela Reinhold.
But what if my last name had been “Trump”?
Democratic Senator: Mr. Trump, on July 12, 2016, during the campaign, you stated that you had never heard of Angela Reinhold.
Me: That’s correct, but I’ve since learned that I did know her. I just forgot her.
Democratic Senator: You forgot her.
Democratic Senator: (Rifling through papers) But Mr. Trump, you sat beside her for over six months in your High School English class. We have three witnesses and the seating chart that confirms this.
Me: Well, I’ve been told that, but I don’t remember.
Democratic Senator: (Drily) Do you remember taking her — this woman you don’t remember — to a wild party on October 25, 1995?
Me: I don’t remember.
Media the next day: Mr. Trump first asserted on July 12, 2016, that he didn’t know Angela Reinhold, but after the New York Times reported that he had, Mr. Trump’s story changed. He now admits that he knew her, but he forgot her. He says. Even though he sat beside her for over six month in 1995 and is reported to have taken her to an October 25, 1995 party thrown by Jim Kline, he says he doesn’t remember her. He says. We report. You decide.
Another true conversation
But you might say that, of course, it’s understandable that after the passage of 12 years, the memory might be faulty, but here’s another true conversation. Again, the particulars have been changed, not because my family will sue me, but so no one can read this blog and think they know what the conversation really concerned.
My Son Did I tell you about the “pigeon” incident at work?
My Wife: No, I don’t think so.
Son: Well, my boss, Carlos, was attempting to get a drink at the water fountain …
Wife: Oh, wait, you did tell me about this two week’s ago.
Me: (Vainly trying to interrupt) Dear ….
Son: Mom, it just happened last week.
Wife: It couldn’t have. I remember …
Me: (Finally getting a word in edgewise) Dear, I was the one who told you about it. I met with our son so we could help the O’Riley’s, and we went out to a burger joint (the kind you don’t like to go to), and he told me about the pigeon incident over dinner. And then I told you about it when I got home.
Wife: Are you sure?
Son: I did tell Dad about it, and it only happened on Thursday.
But what if my wife’s last name had been “Trump”?
Democratic Senator: Mrs. Trump, just recently, you claimed that your son had told you about the pigeon incident, but the New York Times reported that you hadn’t seen your son or talked to him between July 10, 2017 and July 21, 2017. The incident happened on July 14, 2017, and you spoke about that incident on July 16 in your cabinet meeting. How do you account for this discrepancy.
Wife: Well, what I meant was, my husband and told me.
Democratic Senator: But you said you had talked to your son.
Wife: Yes. I misspoke.
Media: Mrs. Trump yesterday, under oath to a senate subcommittee, demonstrated an amazing inability to tell the difference between her son and her husband. When pressed by a Democratic Senator, she was forced to admit that she had lied when she said her son had spoken to her.
We all make mistakes in memory. In the political world, these mistakes can be costly, and in the hands of those who are of the opposite party or a hostile media, weapons. I think I can safely say that, given the amount of letters I have written in my lifetime, I’m sure to have forgotten something I wrote. And I actually remember something I once wrote that, taken out of context, could be used to construe that I might favor the violent overthrow of our government. (I don’t. As I said, you would need to take it out of context.)
This doesn’t mean that outright lies and evasions are excusable, but the media’s constant preoccupation with Trump is getting silly. President Trump talks publicly with President Putin for an hour at a party, and he is accused of collusion.
Can you imagine if you were drug into court for talking to someone at a party?