Columnists
Remembering the Donald
This was a week for big funerals. We had two to contend with: one for the lady from Detroit who finally got a lot of what she musically claimed she never received as a woman, namely Respect; and the other for the man who stood above partisan politics and was praised as a patriot, a Statesman. Aretha Franklin and John McCain. Two worthy lives.
Which got me to thinking: what would happen at Donald Trump’s funeral? What would he be remembered for? As a person widely considered to be vain and narcissistic, surely he has given some thought to what people will say about him when he has departed horizontally—although his actions don’t suggest it. And if he hasn’t thought about it, perhaps jealousy if nothing else will cause him to reflect on the legacies of Franklin and McCain and finally start to consider his own.
Having said that, I’m not optimistic. It strikes me he would be more concerned about drawing the world’s attention to the fact that he had the largest crowd ever at a presidential funeral, and a service longer than even Aretha Franklin’s five-hour marathon. Plus, he’d want to do something that topped her 100-pink-Cadillac procession; and he’d want to stage a more salacious groping incident than befell poor Ariana Grande at the right hand of Bishop Charles Ellis III.
Besides, doing something statesmanlike involves acting beyond narrow self-interest, which goes against Trump’s grain of looking for a victory over a loser at every turn; and doing so with sufficient frequency that it can be said to be part of your character. That will be a tough hill for him to climb. Pardoning Sheriff Joe Arpaio, who went out of his way to target Latinos, or saying there was blame on both sides of a racist encounter in Charlottesville hardly count as the building blocks of a reputation for statesmanlike gestures.
And here’s the thing about death. Once you’re off this mortal coil, you lose the hold you once had over people you’ve intimidated and belittled. People become freer to speak their minds. In Mr. Trump’s case, I’d wager that the Trump admirers club will shrink rather than grow. When the time comes, just ask Rex Tillerson or Jeff Sessions.
Senator McCain attracted two former two-term presidents, one from each side of the political divide, to be his eulogists. Mr. Trump may be lucky to have Vladimir Putin, Benjamin Netanyahu or Wayne LaPierre speak at his funeral. He may have to go further down the barrel to come up with a speaker whose praise will be unvarnished. Perhaps he might choose wrestling entrepreneur Vince McMahon, whose wife he appointed to his cabinet; or his lawyer Rudy Giuliani, who has demonstrated his willingness to engage in Trump-blather beyond limits previously thought humanly possible. Or perhaps the president of McDonald’s would be an appropriate speaker: he could talk with enthusiasm about Trump’s personal consumer contribution to the flourishing US economy.
Let’s suppose it falls to you to deliver a eulogy. What can you say that will capture the true nature of Trump’s contribution to the world, or to America alone if you prefer? You could say that he was “A man unafraid to walk his own course, however elliptical.” You could say he “fed off the energy of crowds, whose enthusiasm he was prepared to say almost anything to generate.” You could say he was “not afraid to put his reputation for honesty on the line with his every utterance.” You could describe him as a man who “welcomed conservatives of all stripes into the Republican Party.” You could say he “risked unpopularity by maiming some of liberal America’s most sacred cows.” You could say that he “trusted his gut more than his experts.” You could say he was “unafraid of the consequences of his actions.” You could say he would “denounce as fake news the fact that the sun rises in the east, if it was reported by the New York Times or CNN.” You could say that “despite their length, he always kept his ties out of his soup.”
You just couldn’t call him a statesman—as you would John McCain. Or Barack Obama. Or even George W. Bush. And he’d be lucky if he got a sliver of the respect that Aretha Franklin got.
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