I'm still trying to recover from last night. My ability to take pride in my country took a serious hit, a feeling much worse than I imagined. When I learned that Mondale had lost - and lost convincingly in Minnesota, my stomach fell out. I guess I always thought the best of Americans; there might be some terrible ideas out there, but at least more than half thought like I did. I was wrong. I have this terrible feeling that this country is now on a course towards an awful blow – be it terrorist, environmental, or profoundly spiritual – and I just pray that my family and close friends aren't caught in its wake.
Because my family and friends are good people with smart, sensitive beliefs and want the best for everyone around them, and they don't deserve to be hurt by something these thinly-veiled fascists set in motion. If one person I know even gets a scrape because of a war in Iraq, I will never forgive. I will be like one of those ancient, leather-faced men in Siberia whose parents were purged under Stalin, so full of rage that I could do nothing but peel potatoes under a freezing midnight sun.
This is a dark time, a time for cocooning, a time for staying away from huge crowds, a time for journeys far away, a time for small dinner parties with the friends you have always loved. It's a time for expatriation, for headphones in place of dancing, for dark Scotches instead of cherries and schnapps. It's time to hoard, to face a media blackout and watch movies with one light on. It's a time for personal dramas and intimate comedies, for black-box plays done in the round. Campfires, sunsets, spooning. When the falcon cannot hear the falconer, we must whisper in each other's ears.
Posted by at November 6, 2002 8:14 PM