MountainMornings

At one point, in the build up to last night’s debate, we heard about the very first job each Republican candidate held as a youngster. Mowing lawns, life guarding, and all the usual career choices that open up to a sixteen year old aspiring politician. 

My very first job was temporary, wrapping Christmas presents at a women’s clothing store. Later that summer I was a counselor-in-training (CIT) at Camp St Joseph for Girls. I had to quit that job suddenly when the nuns found out I was the coordinator for night time trysts on the golf course between the boys camp and the girls. You may have heard the story, passing notes to the altar boy while receiving Holy Communion…

CITs lived in a limbo between the freedom of counselor life and the rules and regs of campers. I was happy to leave my childhood behind and get on with growing up! That summer helped me realize I was finally a “Lapsed Catholic.” 

I made a whopping $500. I lost my faith. And I cut my long hair. My feminist sensibility was growing roots. 

When I heard that Trump’s first job was collecting rent for his father I had to laugh. The arrogance and sense entitlement was ingrained. He must have learned that the world was his oyster at an early age. That everything comes easy with a little hard work and a lot of powerful privilege and leverage. 

When this bubble bursts, he can always go back to collecting the rent.  Here is the Love Bug, the next generation of feminist warriors, practicing her Jedi Knight moves!