Americans

 Forcing myself to be optimistic on what may be one of the most important days in American history. If things turn out right, we will continue to have enlightened leadership based on adherence to the law and human kindness. Will there be decisions with which I don’t agree?

Certainly. I’m an American.

If things don’t turn out right, I fear this will be the last election America enjoys. Oh, there will be things called “elections” like in Russia. But we will no longer have the opportunity to vote out fascists who don’t do the things their supporters thought they would. Will I resist?

Certainly. I’m an American.

It isn’t easy trying to imagine an America ruled under a government that mocks the disabled, sets a mob loose on police officers guarding our nation’s capitol, demeans our military and its veterans, denounces science, places women in subservient positions with no control over their own health, and rises to power on bigotry. Will the people grow weary of their rule?

Certainly, they’re Americans.

But I stand by my feeling that this will not come to happen. We have a choice today. Will we stand our ground and speak out with our votes against tyranny and oppression?

Certainly. We’re Americans.

EPIPHANY OF THE DAY

TALES OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC

 Finished a re-reading of James A. Michener’s “Tales of the South Pacific” last evening. Had chosen the read for a refreshment of the descriptions of the remnants of Norfolk Island, the romance of Nellie Forbush, and the conversations about what we call “the Paradise Syndrome.” That pertains to the tendencies of societies that live in an apparent paradise, without apparent danger or care, to effect brutal and complex religions.

This time I was struck by the final chapter in which the narrator visits a military cemetery on a deserted South Pacific Island, victims of the invasion of a nearby island. Two African American soldiers tend the cemetery full-time, ostensibly as punishment by a bigoted commanding officer.

Two thoughts came to mind.

To the modern reader, the attempt by Michener to phrase the dialogue in southern black dialogue would seem condescending and an affront by a white author. I’m sure the overused term “racists” would emerge. But in 1947, the chapter did, I’m sure, generate equal offense among southern readers offended by the fact that the two caretakers emerge, with a careful reading, as patriotic, dependable, honest, and eloquent defenders of the brave soldiers buried under their care.

I won’t attempt to judge.

The other thought: how timely that I read this during a time when America’s most cherished military cemetery recently suffered invasion and dishonor. Sadly, the act was performed by a political candidate devoid of any respect for people who have worn the uniform of our country, including those who have died wearing it.

I think Michener’s cemetery caretakers would stand up well in comparison with that modern politician.