One T-shirt, two stories

A couple of days ago, I was in Michael’s buying Halloween decorations (yes, it’s early). At the checkout counter, the cashier, a young guy wearing a man bun and horn-rimmed glasses, eyed the T-shirt I was wearing (see below).

 “Is that a political statement or a personal one?” he asked mildly.

“A bit of both, actually,” I replied. “Definitely a political one. But I also worked in newspapers for almost 40 years.”

“A local paper?” he asked.

“Almost 30 years at The Dallas Morning News,” I said.

“Hmm. You look like a journalist,” he said.

“Whatever that means.”

“I don’t know,” the young man said with a shrug. “News people have a kind of air about them. A sense of gravity. Have a nice day.”

“I will,” I said, trying to hide my delight. “Don’t forget to vote.”

Yesterday morning, I’m wearing the same T-shirt as I wait in McDonald’s to get my sausage egg biscuit.

A man in his early 50s, with closely cropped steel-gray hair, was leaning against the wall, waiting for his order, too.

“You a journalist?” he asked without rancor.

“For almost 40 years,” I said, turning toward him.

“The hatred of journalists is pretty bad these days,” he said. “Or has it always been that way?”

“We’ve never had many friends,” I replied. “It’s the nature of the business. But this is the first time we’ve had a president who is trying to get some of us killed.”

That surprised him, but he didn’t take the bait. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “the far right is pretty extreme. But you know, the left is just as bad. I've got to where I can’t stand to watch Fox News or CNN.”

“I don’t agree with the comparison,” I said. “But here’s something I do know. This fake news business is pure crap, the strategy of a guy with a lot to hide.”

“Oh, the press just slants everything,” he said, warming to the topic. “They write about what they want to and ignore everything else. What about that meeting between Clinton and Lynch?”

I could see where this was heading and decided the McDonald’s checkout counter was a lousy place for a political debate.

“That’s all you’ve got?” I asked, taking my breakfast biscuit and turning for the door. “All the accusations against Trump and his minions, all the lies, and all you’ve got in response is Clinton and Lynch? All I say to that, my friend, is that it’s not the same. Not even close. Have a nice day.”

Two stories, one T-shirt. I don’t know what it means.