It’s Debatable

Here’s my weekly confession. I didn’t watch the debate. Clearly because I am typing as the two candidates duke it out on the international stage. I know what you’re thinking. “Don’t you want to know where the parties stand on the issues?” I know where they stand. On opposite sides of a strip of duct tape that goes smack down the middle of the living room.

Democrats? Republicans? They’re just two parents in the middle of a nasty divorce, and you have to decide who you’re going to live with for the next four years. They’re so busy hating each other and trying to take the biggest piece of pie that they have forgotten that they love you at all. And you’re not sure you like them, either.

They scream at each other at the dinner table every night for spending too much money and hide their own receipts under the bed. Each blames the other for the drop in their property value, missing the truth, that the entire neighborhood hates them both because they scream at each other in the middle of the street and embarrass everyone. They play nice when it’s time for vacation then forget they ever agreed on anything the moment the minivan pulls back in the driveway. And they never take you anywhere fun.

And you secretly wish upon every star, wishbone, and eyelash that you don’t actually have to live with either of them. That maybe there’s an auntie you never heard of who will swoop in and offer you sanctuary. Or a fun uncle that will set firm but loving limits because they really do have your best interests at heart. Someone who will tuck you in at night and wish you sweet dreams. And you do dream, and sometimes those dreams even come true.

And all the while, your parents are calling you every night and begging you to please, please do the reasonable and grown up thing and choose them. That your life won’t be worth living if you don’t pick them. And you know then there’s no cool relative to save you, so you pick the one that seems least likely to drop their pants at the grocery store at the moment and hope they don’t quit taking their meds.

Nah. There’s no need to watch the debate. You’ll see them around the table at Thanksgiving. I’ll bring the mashed potatoes. You bring a new roll of duct tape. This mess is going to go on awhile.

Yeah, your pet eagle may have pooped on the living room drapes. And those were new, too.