My Opinionated Self and U.S. Customs

By Nancy Colasurdo

On September 5, the day before I leave for Italy, a friend tells me I’m going to be her “test case.”

Hmmm. OK. How, exactly?

“If they let you back into the country, I’ll know they’re not monitoring social media,” she says.

Holy smokes. I pause. Unquestionably, I am beyond vocal in my displeasure with the president and MAGA.

I then offer that a mutual acquaintance of ours had just returned from Italy and she got back in despite being openly critical of the current administration. My friend agreed that was a good sign.

But she had already planted an ominous seed in my mind.

****

Fast forward to September 10. I’ve been eating scrumptious food and hopping ferries around the Amalfi Coast for days when I see the news break that Charlie Kirk has been shot. In fact, I watch the actual video of the shooting in horror.

My first reaction is shame that this happens so often in my country. It’s so far gone, this gun culture mentality, that I don’t have any expectations we’ll solve it in my lifetime.

From there I learn Kirk is dead and the news ripples out along with reactions. And reactions to the reactions. My emotions are building – anger, sadness, frustration – as I see him being glorified in death. It is unsettling, especially on what is now September 11.

How do I stay quiet and just browse another ceramics shop in Italy like nothing is happening in my country?

I’m clear that I’m not going to let the bile take over my vacation, but I’m a pro and easily capable of knocking out a thoughtful, nuanced opinion piece in a few hours. I settle with a big bottle of water on my bedroom balcony that looks like it’s from a movie set – glass-topped table and chairs overlooking the glistening Tyrrhenian Sea, boats zipping around, and postcard-worthy mountainous terrain. I can hear the bells from a basilica in Minori.

I’ve got plenty of time to dwell on its paradise-like qualities. My friends are relaxing in other parts of the villa. With views like that from every room, even the mundane takes on a certain glamour. I’ve learned that sometimes the house or room you’re staying in is the vacation.

So it feels like a natural extension of my holiday to write in such luxurious surroundings. Nothing about it smacks of obligation. I’ve been nourished by a plate of tender meatballs served on a potato puree base and a delectable bowl of escarole with olives, plump golden raisins, and pignoli nuts.

I go to work, first in my journal and then with my fingers flying over iPad keys, as I wrestle this demon in my brain to the ground via the written word. What I wind up writing – Our National Day of Mourning – becomes my most widely read piece on Substack; I surmise this is because, while I’m a bit shielded in Europe, the United States is consumed with the shooting of this controversial figure who was a big believer in gun rights and free speech.

I end the day with a plate of divine lobster pasta.

****

I write in my journal on September 13, “The world away from here is crazy. Scary. Who knew it could get scarier?”

Yet it did. While most of my vacation days I was happily flitting around the Amalfi Coast, when I had down time I started reading stories of people who were being fired or put on leave for speaking out about Kirk. Most of us know free speech doesn’t mean there are no consequences for our words, but directly quoting a gun activist who was gunned down at a large public event is grounds for dismissal?

If literally anyone else had been killed at that event in Utah, Kirk would have called it the price we pay for the Second Amendment. We can think the crime was heinous while also parsing the unthinkable irony. Those of us who can hold disparate thoughts, that is.

Then, somewhere in the mix of navigating the insanity of Naples Airport and my ensuing nine-hour flight – where I binged season three of The White Lotus and hoped the elderly woman next to me wasn’t offended by the masturbation – I learned Jimmy Kimmel had made some controversial Kirk comments. I ordered a ginger ale for my stomach, as suddenly my thoughts were back to clearing U.S. customs.

Can we stop here for a moment and acknowledge how disturbing that is? Why should my law-abiding ass be worried about customs? It would likely please the president to know of my anxiety, as that’s a vital part of creating the atmosphere he has wrought upon the country. Big bad daddy is in charge. Be fearful of his whims.

****

Here we are a week later. Kimmel returned to his show last night, blessedly. I don’t even watch late-night talk shows, but these guys are helping us get clear on our own power, voice, and rights.

I read this by Cecilia Kang today in The New York Times:

“Driven by the belief that liberal tech and media companies have unfairly silenced viewpoints on the right, [F.C.C. chairman Brendan Carr] is working to transform the F.C.C. from a once sleepy agency best known for licensing local TV stations and expanding 5G cellular networks into a protector of conservative speech.”

You know what? This crystallizes the problem for me. Maybe 20 years ago you could have characterized what right-wing media was broadcasting as “conservative speech.” But now? These networks are on board with an administration that is blatant in its racist, misogynistic, homophobic intent, one that is flouting the Constitution and erasing boundaries and guardrails designed by our founders to make our government run efficiently and fairly.

An F.C.C. standing up for the principles of dictatorship? No, thanks. Once you watch right-wing media rewrite a story like Jan. 6 and you see viewers ignore what they saw with their own eyes that day (it was just earnest tourists, right?), you start to realize we’re in real danger. Is it the party of law and order or is it the party of releasing convicted criminals because they did the president’s bidding?

MAGA is not being fed “conservative speech” so much as one man’s daily grind of lies so he can steer clear of a jail cell. No part of our lives is protected from his wild agenda. He made a fool of himself, and us, at the United Nations. The company that makes Tylenol is in New Jersey and I fear the loss of more jobs in my state.

But hey, I’m back in my country, writing my tail off. In the life of me, that’s paradise.

Minus the Tyrrhenian Sea and some awe-inspiring cliffs, of course.