BLOG POSTS

Am I the only one to find the pretentiousness and eulogy surrounding the death of Gerald Ford conspicuously false, and typical of everything issuing out of Washington these days? Listening to the speeches from aging – though as yet still breathing – ex-presidents, it rapidly became obvious the whole caboodle was just a dress rehearsal for the next one.

America has buried two ex-presidents since I came to live here. Reagan’s was tedious, and Ford’s simply a re-run of Reagan’s, though with different extras playing the minor parts.

The notion that Gerald Ford was a jolly decent fellow, super-glued the consensual flow of political eloquence flowing over the flag-draped coffin in Washington’s National Cathedral today. It says little for the others, if this is what sets him apart from the rest. The present incumbent, George W Bush, said,

“In President Ford, the world saw the best of America.”

At that moment, the world may not have needed to stray far to view the worst.

To the rest of the world, Gerald Ford was a fill-in. The shame heaped on America by his predecessor was best alleviated by a caretaker president who did and said little, just allowing the disease spread by Nixon to naturally heal. In that sense, he was without doubt a good president, at least so far as the rest of the world was concerned.

Tomorrow all the ceremonies will be over and Gerald Ford will finally be allowed to rest in peace. If he were listening to the words spouted about him today, he would probably have understood the falsehood and hypocrisy emanating from certain distinguished figures, queuing for their turn at the lectern. He may well have allowed himself a wry smile.

As Tom Brokaw so honestly stated:

“Gerald Ford brought to the political arena no demons, no hidden agenda, no hit-list or acts of vengeance.”

That fact, more than any other, set Gerald Ford apart from most of his eulogists today.

Filed under: Dead presidents

The usual trend among journalists and writers at his time of year is one of optimistic speculation. The old year has just ended; surely the new one offers hope of a brighter future, a new beginning, a fresh raison d’etre.

It would be hard to imagine, certainly on a global level, that things could get any worse, so perhaps cautious optimism is not so unrealistic. On the other hand, there is little to suggest much will improve over the next twelve months. Conjecture falls short of certainty, but some speculative bets might tempt even the most prudent gambler. For example, the thousand-to-one odds offered by some bookmakers that George W Bush’s much awaited “New Plan” for winning the war in Iraq will fetch Americans and Iraqis out onto the streets cheering. I have failed to uncover even one writer sufficiently optimistic to suggest he may possibly have the answer – and at the right moment will produce it with a flourish, like a white rabbit from up some sleazy magician’s sleeve.

Then, there’s the vexed question of global warming. To date, the only admission from the White House that the planet is heating up at an alarming rate has been a tentative agreement to render the polar bear an endangered species. Terrific for the polar bear, but what about us? Has it still not sunk into our president’s thick Texas skull that polar bears may not be the only species endangered by global warming? Obviously not, though following a recent hasty retreat from his ranch due to a very unseasonal tornado threat, he was observed to gaze skywards with a far-away look that might possibly have hinted at a passing………thought?

Perhaps there is yet a ray of hope for the world in 2007.

Filed under: Optimistic pessimism

My Place by Xristi M.

The earth and I have been long together.
That has not made us friends.
It is not equal commerce between peers
that binds us, purchase
but my awestruck worship
of the blue and emerald manifestation
of a powerful goddess–

the variant beauties, buy changeful but constant,
of mountain dowagers, aglow in sunlight,
mist-shawled in evening,
and star-crowned in the black of night

of seas deeper than the human soul,
beneath whose thundering surface
the bells still chime of churches flooded long ago,
calling lost seaman from wrecked hulls
for services where mermaids twine their hair
with harvested pearls and
beckon to the thronging schools of fish

of forests where trees stand
in virgin starkness against the sky
and drop their leaves and needles
on the mossy carpet below,
the playground and commissary
of all those creatures Adam named

of the vast, still stretches of desert,
at once so sere but drenched in sameness that
past, present, and future seem
only a single speck of time
between the bleak horizons.

She, the earth, has also her Kali nature,
cleaving herself with earthquakes,
spilling churning lava from her volcanoes,
spinning storms that purple the skies
and wash her shores to ruin,
twisting air to funnels of destruction,
and, most dangerous of all,
giving room to man.

She does not court familiarity.
I call her home,
would not presume to call her friend.
I know my place.
………………………….

You knew and loved “your place”. Goodbye, Xristi. You were my dear friend. I will sorely miss you. Rest in Peace.

---