residents were forced to tour the hell they lived silently next to.
There are pictures and film footage that can't be faked. We all have
access to them if we would only look and learn.
Thing is, if you go to Youtube and search for the term "liberating
death camps," the first video
that comes up is this:
There's really no limit to the banality of human evil. I've had satirical videos banned at
Youtube because they were "objectionable" (e.g., my take on the "Breasts Not Bombs" loons). Objectionable? Really?
Who's minding the store for western civilization?
Our old friend Null wants us to add this video clip from Band of
Brothers. Here it is, but it's not proof against the deniers and
can't show just how nightmarish the situation was. Video has no smell,
and no actors anywhere on earth can be as starved unto death as what
troops found when they entered the camps.
But it does remind us of what our reactions should be when the most
"enlightened" among us seek once again to blame the Jews for the fact
that so many millions want them dead. Not just in the middle east,
where we automatically grade their hatreds on a forgiving Third World
in Europe, too, where these camps were located and where the
social democracies, once again, want them all dead.
Our president went around the world apologizing to people who did this
want to do it again. We
remain the decent ones -- if
we're not too bored and lazy and uncomprehending to recognize that our
own president wouldn't shed a tear over this, either.
What are the symptoms of an anxiety attack? Shortness of breath? A
gathering feeling of dread? Moments of sheer panic?
I wish I had those instead of what I have. Which is a feeling of cold
contempt for the incompetent twerp who preens in the White House when
he isn't entertaining phalanxes of champion athletes or attending
various sporting events with all the pomp and circumstance of an office
he isn't fit to hold. Or the cold rage I feel for all the idiots who
saddled us with this disastrous, sinister mediocrity of a perpetual
college radical who hasn't even the slightest idea what his job
consists of, let alone how to do it.
A simple lesson we should never have needed such a risky experiment to
learn. The ship of state doesn't run smoothly or well without a
captain. We don't have one. What we have instead is a country club
sailor in a blue double-breasted blazer (epaulets optional, depending
on the social occasion) and a spotless captain's hat.
It's a nice BIG hat. But shouldn't we
have someone to fill it?
I got news. The hat ain't going to save him from the gail.
And it won't save us, either. Who cares how well your togs fit when the
fatal waves start breaking over your head?
They're coming from all sides now. When will anyone notice? And why do I keep thinking of Captain Queeg
fretting about strawberries?
Talk about anxiety...
win! At the last second. How exceptionaltypical.
THE LOWPOINTS. Mrs. CP just got off the phone with me. She objects
to the term
'American Exceptionalism,' because it's suddenly au courant after not
being being part of our national lexicon, well, ever. She's right about
that. But sometimes a term acquires meaning by being denigrated, as
Obama did with this one. It's traceable to this:
[E]arlier this year, while attending
the European summit of the Group of 20 major economic countries, the
president was asked if he believed in American exceptionalism. He
replied, "I believe in American exceptionalism, just as I suspect that
the Brits believe in British exceptionalism, and the Greeks believe in
Before that, the term was more an academic historical discussion topic
than an easy label.
The idea is hardly new, however. Most Americans know there's
something supremely special about this country, its history, and its
Probably, though, American "specialness" wouldn't qualify as something
network news organizations would even dignify as a concept worth
covering. Although Obama addressed it directly in his presidential
The term that can be
discussed and parsed and criticized and ridiculed by the Post-Modern
cognoscenti is 'American Exceptionalism.' Mrs. CP conceded the point on
that basis (after blowing her top when I asked her if she agreed with
Obama... Phew. Talk about your ill-advised ripostes...) Supposedly,
this is one more of an endless list of imperialistic American delusions
we need to get over like some pernicious brain virus.
Which brings me, inevitably, to World Cup soccer. (I'm a master of
smooth transitions. Have you noticed?) The World Cup is more important
in the scheme of things than the United Nations. The U.N. is all about
deadly dull diplomacy where every word means something like its
opposite, unless it doesn't mean anything at all. The World Cup is
about the passion and character of the competing nations. The ESPN
advertisements for the tournament say exactly this if you've bothered
to look at them. Big problems can't be fixed and don't really matter.
The World Cup, on the other hand, does
In a sense I'm inclined to agree. Because it's a chance to see who
we're really dealing with and how we differ when something we care
about is at stake. The United States is, of course, a latecomer to this
worldwide soap opera, but we're there because, uh, we're the United
States and someone's having a tournament and what the hell, why not
enter it? We've got guys who can kick the ball too.
Now permit me to draw a few unfair inferences about what we've seen so
far. Then you tell me if they're far-fetched or might actually matter
in some small way.
Team England is being vilified for lacklustre performances, as if they
somehow lack the necessary heart. Team France has imploded entirely, so
much so that their own citizens were observed rooting against them on
Jumbotrons at the Eiffel Tower. Team Italy -- the defending World Cup
Champion -- was so busy flopping and faking against lowly New Zealand
that they, well, lost a tiedraw
with the "All Whites."
Meanwhile, all the African nations have been losing, losing, losing,
the way they seem to do in every international situation.
Throughout, soccer remains the same boring,
game it has always been, even though there are ways
it could be turned into the "beautiful game" it asserts itself to be.
With one notable exception.
Team USA. Which may not be the best soccer team in the tournament but
has so far proven against all odds that when Americans are involved,
"boring" isn't the only possible outcome.
That's my tribute to our underdog team. They've somehow contrived to
make this sad-sack sport dramatic.
Who'd a thunk it?
They duel the sanctimonious Brits to a tiedraw.
No big deal. But it sure upset the Brits. Then they play a game the way
Americans generally fight wars, not showing up for the first half then
storming back from a 2-0 deficit for the first time in World Cup
history to score a winning goal in the final minutes against Slovenia.
Except that the referee refuses to allow them the victory. Those damn
Americans, don't you know. Which, as we've seen, would send the fragile
European teams into a fatal funk.
Only that's not what happened. Team USA proceeded next to do the
impossible. Make the end of a soccer game incredibly exciting. By scoring a winning goal
after official time had
expired, just as if they were a baseball team playing extra innings or
a football team playing in sudden-death overtime. Positively thrilling.
To be honest, I've never been a McChrystal fan. I thought he should
have resigned when Obama kept him twisting in the wind for months and
then arbitrarily reduced his troop requests for the sake of appearing
Now I think he just wants out but not quietly. He wants a Big Splash.
[I've been listening to Rush defend him. I just now turned it off.]
A few random points before I proceed. It's being reported now that he
saw the article as it would appear and had no objections. Also, Rich
Lowry is reporting that he's always
talked this way and surrounded himself with a staff that talks this
way. He's being compared to MacArthur. Not so fast. First, he's not in
MacArthur's league. For example, MacArthur scored a series of striking
military victories, including the defeat of the Japanese in World War
II. McChrystal is closer in terms of performance to McClellan: big ego,
not so big record of success. Furthermore, MacArthur was fired for
insubordination, yes, but not because he gave an interview to Rolling Stone magazine. MacArthur
was fired for disobeying a direct order of his Commander-in-Chief.
Sound like I'm defending McChrystal? I'm not. MacArthur was trying to
win a war. I haven't seen much evidence that McChrystal is trying to
win a war. I think he's another Wesley Clark, trying to win a
larger-than-life reputation he's done nothing to earn. With a bunch of
bitchy, backbiting gossip.
What he's done with this Rolling
Stone debacle is a disgrace to his uniform and a betrayal of his
troops. His men are dying because he made unacceptable compromises in
terms of troop strength and rules of engagement that he now wishes to
be spectacularly freed from by an act of pure, selfish bravado. He
wants to be the martyred hero. Never mind what the transition
precipitated by his self-destruction will mean in terms of troop
morale, operational coherence, and momentum on the ground.
No hero. What he is is a jerk. Whether or not he was right about
everything he said. He had his chance to make a stand when his plan was
eviscerated in the first place. He didn't make that principled stand.
Now he's a mere, publicity-seeking egomaniac.
. Don't tell anyone. Don't want to jinx anything. He's four
months old and we're getting him on Tuesday. Here's what he looks like
new boy with his soon to be ex-mama.
We obviously won't know what name suits him until he responds to one,
but you're all welcome to offer suggestions.
The greyhounds don't know yet. But we're thinking they're going to be
happy. God knows, they've been miserable and neurotic since, well, a
week ago Sunday. The pug's been a complete pain too. Not to mention her
Wish us well. The poor boy doesn't know what he's getting himself into.
He's been living with twelve other deerhounds. Now he's got Molly
Andrew and Eloise.
I expect Izzie
will get him through the early rough
. Our much admired colleague Doctor Zero has a book out containing the
best essays from his first year of blogging:
Doctor Zero: Year One Authored by John Hayward Cover design or artwork by Marge Cooke
From the pages of Hot Air, one of the most popular conservative sites
on the Web, comes John Hayward, also known as "Doctor Zero!" Join him
for a witty and passionate look at the political and cultural landscape
of President Obama's first year in office. Discover an America
populated by unforgettable characters like the Velociraptors of Supply
and Demand, the Fear Machine, and the Blatant Beast. Consider economics
from a new angle by learning the Parable of the Bread Aisle and the Tao
of the Clunker. From the trumpets of "What Freedom Demands" to the
gentle poetry of "A Prayer From The Living World," these pages contain
the best works from Year One of a writer who ranks among the most
unique and widely-quoted new voices on the Internet!
Publication Date: Jun 17 2010
ISBN/EAN13: 1452848149 / 9781452848143
Page Count: 408
Binding Type: US Trade Paper
Trim Size: 7" x 10"
Color: Black and White
Related Categories: Political Science /
You should be able to purchase it at Amazon within the next week or so.
It costs $16.95 and we're betting it's well worth the investment.
Doctor Zero is a master of the formal essay, he writes exceptionally
well, and amid all the noise of the Internet, this is an opportunity to
hear one clear voice speaking sense from a wise and educated
If possible, we'll offer a review when it's generally available, but in
the meantime we'd like to offer what support we can by reminding
readers of the cacophonous Internet context which forms the backdrop,
or background static, behind his book. That's why we've assembled an
archive of our own past year of diverse blog noisemakers. Think of them
as the vuvuzelas that caterwaul during the beautiful game represented
by DZ's more formal explication of unfolding events on the world stage.
Maybe you can read them against one another, week by week or month by
Grandfathers don't care about getting Hallmark cards. Mrs. CP and I met
Friday with some old friends who were moving to Florida. Bon voyage and
all that. Except Bud immediately handed me a sheaf of papers. An After
Action Report and a Citation. His grandson had died in Afghanistan. He
reads Instapunk. He wanted me to honor his grandson. So that's what I
want to do with this Father's Day. Honor Bud's grandson.
The papers were voluminous. But they can be boiled down to human terms.
Sergeant Hrbek was assigned on 23 December, to Headquarters
Battery, 3rd Battalion, 10th Marine Regiment, Regimental Combat Team 7.
The team responded to an IED containing "screws, nails, glass, and
other foreign objects." What happened next:
Sergeant Hrbek maneuvered his squad ...
Approximately ten minutes later the
patrol received enemy fire from three directions... As the patrol
returned fire from the northwest, Sergeant Hrbek bounded between
covered positions and exposed himself to enemy fire while orienting his
patrol on the enemy... Sporadic enemy gunfire continued until
approximately 1640 when the Battalion Sergeant Major stepped on a...
pressure plate IED. The IED blast resulted in the immediate amputation
of the Sergeant Major's legs above the knees. The blast rendered two
additional Marines in the vicinity unconscious. Sergeant Hrbek left his
covered position while under enemy small arms and machine gun fire to
run to the aid of the injured Marines.
Sergeant Hrbek applied tourniquets and pressure dressings... [and]
continued treating the Sergeant Major until the MEDEVAC helicopter
requested by the patrol leader arrived.... Surgeons at the Camp Bastion
Trauma Center... indicated that they had not seen anyone with similar
injuries arrive at the trauma center in such good shape...
On 14 January 2010, Sergeant Hrbek was the patrol leader [on a mission
to] familiarize the Company A Marines with the area of operations. The
third of the five vehicles struck [an IED] as the patrol reached its
last objective... Sergeant Hrbek was mortally wounded by a
victim-operated pressure-plate IED as he returned to his vehicle...
Because of his steadfast leadership and heroic actions, Sergeant Hrbek
is enthusiastically reccommended for the Bronze Star Medal with combat
distinguishing device [that's the 'V' for Valor.]
I have more. The rest of the After Action Report. The Citation. But we
don't need more. The story is
self-evident. A Marine who takes care of his own men without regard to
his own safety. Then dies taking the same risks his responsibility
requires him to ask of his men. War and heroism in less than a thousand
But life is never worth less than a thousand words. Chris Hrbek wasn't
just a warrior. He believed in helping the people he was there to
and the kids of Afghanistan. Will they remember him? I think so.
I won't show you pictures of the comical, off-the-wall Chris. I have
them, but you haven't earned them because you didn't know him. The same
goes for me.
This is for Bud and Vikki. I won't even tell you how sorry I am for
your loss. That's just empty. All I can do, in this poor space, is honor your loss. I asked a Marine
friend how I could do that. He said, "You can't. All you can do is say
is that he was a Marine."
. Actually, there's no mystery about it. South
thought Alvin was Al
Green, the singer Rolling Stone
magazine placed #65 on its list of '100 Greatest Artists of All Time.'
End of story.
But the multitudinous conspiracy theories on the left about Greene's
primary win are still welcome, however, because they've inspired the
Coulter column in a month of Sundays. An excerpt:
Greene: The Most Qualified Democrat I've Ever Seen
Democrats have decided that Alvin Greene's surprise victory in the
South Carolina Democratic senatorial primary must be the result of a
Republican dirty trick.
Greene beat Vic Rawl, a former state representative and judge, with a
whopping 60 percent of the vote in last Tuesday's primary, despite
Greene's having no job, no house, no campaign website, no campaign
headquarters -- indeed, no campaign. Other than paying the $10,000
filing fee, Greene seems to have put no effort into the race whatsoever.
But he does have one thing Rawl doesn't have: In the grand tradition of
legendary Democrats such as Teddy Kennedy, Greene has a felony arrest.
(Greene's inexperience really shows here: Democrats usually wait until
after they're elected to show pornography to college girls.)
So this is not good for the Democrats. Naturally, therefore, they're
Rep. James Clyburn, D-S.C., has demanded that the U.S. attorney
investigate, ominously suggesting that Greene may be a Republican
plant. Clyburn is the third-ranking Democrat in the House.
MSNBC's Keith Olbermann interviewed Greene as if he had Lee Harvey
Oswald in the dock. Chris Matthews asked guests: "Do you think this has
the look of a dirty trick -- sort of a Watergate number?" Watergate,
you'll recall, involved the Nixon White House trying to persuade a
mildly retarded black man to run for the Senate.
Obama senior adviser David Axelrod said Greene was not a "legitimate"
candidate and called his victory "a mysterious deal." (Yes, how could a
young African-American man with strange origins, suspicious funding,
shady associations, no experience, no qualifications, and no
demonstrable work history come out of nowhere and win an election?)
They're hopping mad, these liberals, but it's not clear what their
theory of the crime is. Before accusing Republicans of committing a
dirty trick, apparently no one asked the question: "OK, but what was
The key to Greene's victory, you see, is that he got more votes. How do
liberals imagine Republicans pulled that off? Mesmerize the Democrats
into voting for an idiot? If they could do that, John McCain would be
The only thing a Republican could possibly have done is pay Greene's
filing fee. It's likely that someone paid his filing fee, inasmuch as
Greene doesn't appear to have enough money to buy a sandwich.
But anyone could have paid it -- ACORN, a community organizer, a
stimulus grantor, Betty White. If a Republican paid the $10,000 filing
fee, why not give Greene another hundred bucks for a campaign website?
Or how about making it $150, so Greene could buy a new suit?
Go on. Read the whole thing. We can all use a good laugh now and again.
Cough. Like now.
Never cared for his music, but I guess I'm forced to start changing my
mind about him as a man. First, he makes nice with Rush Limbaugh (uh,
who cares but it's still nice...), and then he stands
up for Israel:
TEL AVIV, Israel – Pounding his piano
in blue-tinted sunglasses before nearly 50,000 screaming fans, Elton
John took center stage in a battle over Israel's image.
The legendary British rocker's concert on Thursday night followed a
string of cancellations by artists like Elvis Costello and the Pixies.
Resisting a growing wave of calls from pro-Palestinian activists to
boycott the Jewish state, John gave Israelis a rare reason to smile
amid their increasing sense of international isolation.
"Ain't gonna stop me from coming here, baby," he told the cheering
crowd in Tel Aviv, saying he believed music should spread peace and
bring people together: "That is what we do. We do not cherry-pick our
consciences, OK?" he added, in an apparent swipe at the artists who
have canceled concerts in Israel.
Okay. I'm happy to proclaim it. Elton John has my respect.
I am hard pressed to come up with a
constitutionally more chilling presidential comment than the following
statement made by Barack Obama Tuesday night (emphasis mine):
Tomorrow, I will meet with the chairman
of BP and inform him that he is to
set aside whatever resources are
required to compensate the workers and business owners who have been
harmed as a result of his company’s recklessness.
Since when is a President’s wish our command? Under what legal
authority did the “rule of law” President make the decision as to how
much a private entity would pay and then “inform” the private party
that it must obey or face the harsh retribution of the federal
This is similar to what happened to the bond holders in GM and
Chrysler, whose private property rights were trampled in the name of
According to reports, BP also will pay compensation to people who lose
their jobs not because of BP’s conduct, but because of the Obama
administration’s policy decision to implement a drilling moratorium. We
now have the specter of a private company being forced to pay for
Respect for the Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment is what
separates us from North Korea or Venezuela (emphasis mine):
No person shall be held to answer for a
capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or
indictment of a grand jury, except in cases arising in the land or
naval forces, or in the militia, when in actual service in time of war
or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offense
to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in
any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of
life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor
private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.
It is beyond me how any person who claims to be a civil libertarian can
support this administration. Put aside issues of Gitmo, rendition or
other aspects of the war on terror.
When it comes to the foundation of our domestic freedom, Obama has
trampled the Constitution with vigor and lack of concern.
on the neck really aren't that far removed from boots marching to the
rhetorical cadences of a man who speaks from behind an inscrutable mask
with the certainty of a cold megalomaniac.
The One. Skip to 1 hr 12.5 min and watch through 1 hr 19 min.
Change a few of the ad-hominems to capitalists, consumers, whitebread
clingers to cars, guns and religion, etc, and review the Oval Office
speech. (Come to think of it, the rest of the movie probably isn't far off, either.)
Far-fetched? Really? The man who wants to control the press,
every market he's had the opportunity to touch, and even how we eat
Does anyone remember how he
came to power and under what kind of spell?
Treat a man like a god and he will come to think of himself as a god,
imperious and infallible.
That's what we've turned loose on ourselves, as Jay Cost makes clear
today in this
Pulpit of a Bully
Mike Allen broke this astounding bit of news yesterday:
Phil Schiliro, the White House
congressional liaison, has told the Senate to aim to take up an energy
bill the week of July 12, after the July 4 break (and after the
scheduled final passage of Wall Street reform). Kagan confirmation will
follow, ahead of the summer break, scheduled to begin Aug. 9. The plan
is to conference the new Senate bill with the already-passed House bill
IN A LAME-DUCK SESSION AFTER THE ELECTION, so House members don't have
to take another tough vote ahead of midterms.
A White House aide has the official word: "President Obama reiterated
his call for comprehensive energy and climate legislation to break our
dependence on oil and fossil fuels. In the coming weeks he will be
reaching out to Senators on both sides of the aisle to chart a path
forward. A number of proposals have been put forward from Members on
both sides of the aisle. We're open to good ideas from all sources, and
will be working with Senators on a comprehensive proposal. The tragedy
in the Gulf underscores the need to move quickly, and the President is
committed to finding the votes for comprehensive energy legislation
The only reason to pass such a major piece of legislation during a lame
duck session is because the proposal is unpopular. If Democrats could
sell the bill to their constituents, they would pass it before the
November elections then campaign on it. Party leaders must also expect
that the political will for this bill will not exist in the 112th
Congress after the voters have spoken in November. In other words, the
new representatives coming in are not going to vote for it - so Nancy
Pelosi, Harry Reid, and Barack Obama had better get the representatives
who were just fired to support it before they're forced into early
For somebody who seems detached from the details of policy and largely
uninterested in legislative wrangling, Barack Obama sure does come
across sometimes like a political bully. But this is not bullying some
obstinate backbench legislator. Instead, this is bullying the American
people. With health care reform, he basically told the country that he
didn't care what it thought. The fact that people opposed the bill was
proof they didn't know what they were talking about. Now, apparently,
the evolving strategy on energy is the same. Don't like cap-and-trade?
That's your problem, not his. Plan to vote out Democrats in favor of
the idea? Like he cares. He'll pass it anyway.
He really thinks he can control everything and all of us. Me? I'm out
but the 'young' part. Then again, Jagger ain't young neither.
Irish girl. Five feet nothing. When she was young she
a head of red hair like a lion's mane. Born for combat and command.
Except Boudica lost
in the end. Mrs. CP never did. She's
more like an elven
queen. Or this one:
4:15 to 5:00. Pretty perfect except for no business suits.
Including the horsemanship, the temper, and steel. Ask
But she is also a Jersey Girl. I feel like Tom Waits, hoarse and lost,
praises in that ultimate anthem to our state's womenfolk. I'm in love
with a Jersey Girl. Sha la la la la la, I'm in love with a Jersey girl.
To understand Mrs. CP you have to understand both Ireland and New
And other things too, but I'll get to those later.
Nobody who's not from Jersey understands New Jersey. Mostly it's the
best place to be from. Despite all the urban buildup. Neighborhoods are
tumbled upon neighborhoods and there's a great jumbling that isn't
really a melting pot but a mingling. Polish, Irish, Jewish, German,
Black, Italian, Hungarian, and more. Yes, you can be born here with a
primeval or celtic fire to rule, but for the same reason MacArthur
never mounted a coup against the government, you have your rough edges
softened by American life. Rows of quiet houses, little league games,
diurnal duties and rituals, all of them quiet you into a focus that
concentrates your rage to live into acceptable channels. So it was with
Mrs. CP. She learned to be a secret
barbarian, soft and friendly as necessary with family and friends,
reserving her in-born competitiveness and dominion for business and,
The horses understood. She was the boss. When they got out of line she
smacked them in the ass. Men, somewhat dumber, came to understand it
too. When they got out of line she smacked them in the ass. With a look
no one could ever mistake. She never chafed about the restrictions
women faced in the corporate world, which were intensely real in her prime career years, but she also succeeded in
attracting an upside-down royal court of her own. She was the mentor
for men who very soon came to outrank her, but one stern word from her
was enough to put them in their place. No, she wasn't their mother.
(Galadriel subsides...) She was their better, the more so for the fact
that she didn't care about titles or rank. She loved them, but only to
the extent that they didn't fail her sense of how a man must respond to
the temptations and challenges of responsibility. She always knew more
about that than any of them.
When I think about Mrs. CP and the thing called feminism, I can only
She is a force of nature. What all the drab, whining victims of
patriarchy only wish they could be.
So one has to trace that look back to Ireland. She's traveled there
twice. About the only time she ever left her beloved New Jersey. I
asked her once -- because I've never been to Scotland -- if she felt at
home in Ireland, as if she'd returned somehow to where she was from.
"Yes," she said. "That's what it was like. I didn't expect it. But
that's exactly how it was."
Which, I suppose, is the story of Mrs. CP and me. The Irish lass who
been to Ireland when we met and the Scot who has yet to set foot in his
We connected right away. She was completely impossible, and so was I.
Truculent celts who both knew everything worth knowing, although with a
modicum of toleration we allowed a certain complementarity between her
German/Russian/Math degree and my Greek/Latin/French/English/History
degree. We liked a lot of the same things, food excepted, and disliked
a lot of the same things, food excepted. She liked horses and dogs, I
liked cars and dogs.
What did we like? Oh how we loved the English language, its majesty and
poetry. We loved Fitzgerald and Yeats equally. We laughed at the same
French movies, we exchanged insights about people we knew that cracked
us both up. We were soulmates.
My fault. She had children and I felt I hadn't lived yet, not having
the slightest idea what living consisted of. I, you see, was going to
become a great writer, which meant that I had to be free. Or something.
So, when life had done to me what life does to the proud, I returned
finally to the place of my birth and, on a dark night of the soul such
as Fitzgerald describes, I called her. She was the one who remembered
what the 'great writer' had forgotten, that soulmates are soulmates. I
will never forget the moment when I saw her again, after all those
years of travail and pain and loneliness. She looked at me with trust
in her eyes. This tiny indomitable dynamo who outshone in a moment all
the people I had met in decades of striving and ambition. I knew at
once that I had finally come home.
And, you might ask, why would this queen not smite you in the ass like
an errant horse and beat you into the weeds, and
all I can say is that it's a celtic bond. She always knew who I was,
how much I needed her, and she enfolded me in her arms like the clan we
somehow both belong to.
There is no such thing as time. Why, I suppose, I continue to like the
movie Highlander. I'm not
French like MacLeod, but I have always been apart and alone. There's
something magical about returning to the heather and the green hills
and the stark rocks of your native soul. That's her. Together, we're
our own land with our own rivers and hills and mists and weather. If
she gets mad at me, it's a storm that threatens the very birds in the
air. But mostly we move together, responding in the same way to the
same winds and clouds and changing colors of the landscape that is
built of us.
For me, till the end of time, she will always be this: