Can’t help it-- I shudder when I pick up newspapers. The 2012 presidential race has already begun in our beloved I-Me-Mine republic. I dread the parade of carnival-like characters with their fake smiles pontificating on the obvious while they promise a demanding public whatever they think we want. But that being said-- a round of applause to all the candidates that have stepped into the ring----without them there simply would be no show. The political big top is up and I can already smell popcorn.
It’s a wonderfully designed system that every four years can look the American president in the eye and hand him his hat. I look back on the beginning of this administration when they thought they could get by on image and marketing by dancing with Barbara Streisand, showing the latest dress the First Lady was wearing and flashing confident smiles that produced a five minute round of applause. But like most presidents the more people saw of him the less they liked him and he had to spend even more time on marketing and spin control. Now contenders for the office begin to emerge from the mist.
There is Donald Trump--- yes, apparently it has finally come to that. Newt Gingrich slogs out of the Great Dismal Swamp of Memory and rumor has it that a lady from Alaska who shoots caribou and cooks walrus meatloaf is putting luggage on her dog sled and packing trail mix. There’s a lot going on.
But in my house the race for the presidency is small potatoes; the much needed business of spring house cleaning is occupying our gentle minds. We are decent Christian people but Yea, we have walked through the valley of the shadow of a county dump. We travel narrow foot paths through accumulated debris. We live and walk among piles of old magazines and stacks of books. What we believe is a kitchen countertop is covered by piles of driftage washed up with each monthly tide--the flotsam and jetsam of misspent lives. Another month of this and I’ll become a recluse who spends the day in his ratty bathrobe with the drapes drawn ferreting away paper clips and bread ties and cooking spam on a hotplate in the bathroom. Our ship is sinking. We need to throw some cargo overboard.
I go through stacks of paperbacks that I have no desire to re-read and I throw them out. Then there are CD’s but my ears are not eager to listen and so I declare them garbage. I keep “Alabama’s Greatest Hits” and “Chant” by the Benedictine monks of Santo Domingo and I keep the CD “Greatest Country Hymns”. The first song, “Life’s Railway to Heaven” summons memories of friends singing hymns around the old piano in my mother’s living room. Later we’d move to the kitchen to eat a meal of fried chicken after saying grace.
I remember college when most of my possessions could be put into three cardboard boxes plus a navy sports coat, five pairs of jeans, Webster’s’ Third Unabridged dictionary and a slide rule. I am not that guy anymore but sometimes when life collects around me I want to pack a few boxes, leave town and start all over again somewhere else.
America is looking for change and so am I. That’s how I feel about this coming election. Clear out all the old stuff and let’s start over again. The basics would be a good place for all of us to begin-- like maybe a nice hymn, a home cooked meal and especially a prayer.
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