I am recovering from our family vacation.

          Once again, the missus and I hitched the hole-in-the-water-into-which-we-pour-money to the van and made the annual trek to the Traverse City area in northern Michigan.

          As usual, I ignored the gentle (and oft-repeated) suggestions that I use some sunscreen, with the predictable result that after one day on the water my face was burned to a crisp. The “raccoon” effect of where the sunglasses had been was stunning.

          Then I began to molt.

          I grew used to the smug “I told you so” looks from the missus, but that wasn’t all. As each layer of skin peeled off, I had the distinct impression that she was hoping, against hope, that from that charbroiled epidermis a handsome new face would emerge phoenix-like, maybe a George Clooney, or some other age-appropriate hunk.

          Yet again, I was a source of great disappointment to her.

          To pass the time, I tuned in to the Republican National Convention.

          Which was a source of great disappointment to me.

          How had I missed Ronnie Reagan’s “shining city on a hill” morphing into a dark and dystopian Gotham City patrolled by The Donald’s Batman, and his boy wonder Robin, played by our own dearly departed governor, Mike Pence?

          Could this dark vision of our country be accurate?

          Well, consider the definition of the word “dystopia:” “An imaginary place where everything is as bad as it possibly can be.”

          The key word is “imaginary.”

          Our country has its share of challenges, but it also has its fair share of challenges met, and challenges overcome. For each dark moment, there is one that is aspirational. For each injustice, there is an instance of justice being served.

          We may not always be the “shining city on a hill” of the perpetually optimistic Gipper, but neither are we perpetually as wretched a place as that portrayed in Cleveland.

          There are advantages, however, in having folks believe we are living in the end times, politically speaking.

          If I can be convinced that we are all going to hell in a handbasket, I am also susceptible to signing on to whatever craziness  comes along that can  pass itself off as an alternative plan of action – whether that plan is consistent with the basic values of our country or not.

          We are the heirs of more than a generation of talk radio and reactionary pundits who have fed us a steady diet of “reasons” and conspiracy flights-of-fancy inferring that our democratic institutions are no longer capable of fulfilling their function, or more insidiously, convincing us that these institutions – the justice system, the Congress, the executive branch, with the connivance of the “liberal media” – are actively working against our interests as citizens.

          Along the way, these purveyors of fear and paranoia have made a nice living for themselves, but they have done so at the cost of undermining faith that the government created by the Constitution is sufficient to meet our needs.

          They have given birth to a legion of the fearful and paranoid.

          The “strong man” option becomes more attractive.

          If the competing factions and complexities of modern society become too much, if the need to solve problems that defy simple solutions becomes too mind numbing, there is a temptation to give the guy who claims to have all the answers a shot. Leaving the decisions to someone else allows the luxury of not having to go through the often messy and time-consuming exercise of making collective decisions by way of the processes set out in our Constitution.

          The problem is, no one person has all the answers.

          Gotham City is a fantasy, and the need to make America great again is a fantasy as well. As frustrating as a republic can be, we are great already on our own, and without the need for assistance from a larger-than-life, but nevertheless, imaginary Batman.

          As for the missus, she is encouraging me relax in the sun. I’m thinking that she’s hoping that if only I could slough off a couple of more layers of skin …