A century ago, Charles Lindbergh was the most famous man in the world, the pilot who first flew New York to Paris in 33 hours. Today, I am looking at his grave. It is located on the far side of the world on the edge of an island, 5,000 miles from Washington, D.C. His companions in eternal rest are not fellow American heroes, his wife, or any of his children. No, they are apes named Kippy, George, and Keiki, who loved to wear Bermuda shorts.

What does that say about Donald Trump , the current most famous man in the world? More than you think.

It is November and I’m writing this on Maui. I come here a couple of times a year — an indulgence I financially rationalize by the fact I drive a 2014 Honda Civic and pray that my son will choose a publicly funded university. I stay north of Laha

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