Well, we are back from Rome. We saw no indications of imminent collapse.
Now we are off to New York City for three nights, for a family gathering. Longtime readers will know that I am no fan of dashing about from place to place; my ideal for these autumn years is what Cicero called otium cum dignitate: quiet contemplation far from the madding crowd. Books, music, walks in the piney Cape Cod woods, watching the endless variety of sea and sky, and the stars wheeling overhead in a Bible-black firmament — that’s good enough for me. But no man is an island, even if he lives on one, and so off we go to Gotham. I will file a report.
P.S. I haven’t had anything to say about the dismal turn of history that happened this past Tuesday. I really don’t know what to say that wouldn’t be obvious to the astute observer, or that hasn’t already been said. All I can add, for now, are the immortal words of the great Mencken:
“Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want, and deserve to get it good and hard.”
And so we will, common and uncommon alike. Gird up now thy loins.
2 Comments
Glad you and the missus are back safe and sound, Malcolm.
Things are going to get ugly, I’m afraid. For instance, I suspect Peggy Noonan is right that Trump will eventually turn on his own supporters and depict them as rubes. This hard core will subsequently realize that for all of his talents and insights on issues like illegal immigration the president is truly a vile character, eliciting from them the erstwhile repressed and apposite anger that they’ve been taken along for a ride in many ways over the last decade. Combine this with the inevitable Leftist overreach just over the horizon…
Gird up our loins, indeed.
I often recall what you wrote while bobbing on a boat off the coast of Vietnam. Travel loses its savor as we age. There is another great pile of rocks, there another pock mark on the face of the earth, there another specimen of architecture from a world that fell to pieces long ago. You can still get me out of the house with a promise of such delights, but I forsake my comfortable chair without great hope that I will be delighted when I am standing in some far away place amidst strangers scooping gelato into their faces.