Those Enchanted Evenings

Sitting in a room of older adults at The Forest at Duke--most of them 80 years and over--we listened to Sam, the music instructor, play the piano. As usual, he ended his weekly session on music appreciation with a show tunes sing-a-long. A resident requested "Some Enchanted Evening" from South Pacific.

As some of the residents sang and others nodded their heads and still others seemed asleep, the collective memories of hundreds of enchanted evenings took over the room. Lives nearly over, passions long gone but not forgotten.

For a brief moment, feelings of love and loss rendered everything else meaningless.

Freedom

On Saturday the Triangle Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic in conjunction with the Carolina Raptor Center released an American Bald Eagle into the wilds of Jordan Lake. The eagle had been found injured and underweight in a Raleigh landfill over the summer and was now restored to health.


Her caregiver handled her like an oversized, feathered baby.


Then she turned her towards the water and prepared to launch her into the sky.


The power with which the eagle took off was stunning. She didn't stumble, and she didn't look back.


After 45 minutes perched high in a tree on the other side of the lake (her bald, white head still visible), she finally flew off, circling higher and higher into the clouds until we could no longer see her, leaving us to ponder--in wonder and in awe.

A Dog's Life: Irish Blessing

May the roads rise to meet you,
May the winds be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields,
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

When Giants Walked

When I learned on Saturday that three prominent political families had each lost someone--the Kennedys, the Mondales, and the Percys--I found myself transported to 1971, when I was in 9th grade. Our history teachers took us to Washington, D. C., that year, and we were on the lookout for famous senators. I remember the thrill at seeing Hubert Humphrey, Charles Percy, and Jacob Javits.

Imagine any ninth graders now being excited by the sight of a U. S. Senator. Max Baucus, Mary Landrieu, Harry Reid, Orrin Hatch? The list of senators from the 92nd Congress, 1971 - 1973, however, is filled with distinguished names: J. William Fulbright, Margaret Chase Smith, Mike Mansfield, Sam Ervin, Frank Church, Edmund Muskie, Ted Kennedy, George McGovern, Birch Bayh, Walter Mondale, Howard Baker, Mark Hatfield, Barry Goldwater, and Alan Cranston. I could list more.

What's happened? A lot, of course. The money in politics, the 24-hour news cycle, our polarized parties, widespread cynicism, not to mention my own yearning for the past. Still, the senators from the 92nd Congress loomed large in ways that I miss. They represented all of us, not just the narrow interests of their own states. They were public servants of the United States of America, even when we disagreed with them.

Maybe they weren't giants, and surely they had their warts. But they held our respect, they took seriously the issues of the day, and they worked on our behalf. They did the job we paid them to do. I don't think we can say the same of our senators today.

The News is Discouraging . . .

. . . time to post another picture of my kids.

We Weren't There

Where were you when the twin towers were struck? Or when President Kennedy was shot? Or when the Challenger blew up?

We answer these questions over and over again whenever a horrific anniversary rolls around. "I was strolling my 8-month-old baby," or "I was riding my bike," or "I was at work that day."

When my neighbor told me her September 11 story--that she'd been on the night shift and had developed a debilitating migraine, which left her in bed and oblivious to the horror unfolding--I realized how mundane our stories are. Especially when we weren't there, at the site of the disaster. Even President Bush was in the midst of ordinary life, reading The Pet Goat to second graders in Florida.

I wonder why this is, this need to tell our story. Is it to affirm that we're still here and alive? Is it to give meaning to our lives--that even though we weren't there, we're still important to the story?

I'm reminded of the 1950s television program hosted by Walter Cronkite, You Are There. It was a terrifying show where viewers were transported back in time to tragic events. I still remember the fear that gripped me at the beginning of one episode, when we found ourselves aboard the Titanic on April 15, 1912. Another episode took us to Lakehurst, New Jersey, on May 6, 1937; my brothers gasped at the mention of the Hindenburg, but I didn't know what it was and feared all the more the terror that awaited me.

At the end of these episodes, though, and at the end of all of them, we were let off the hook. For, in fact, we really weren't there. We were safe in our recreation room lying on the floor in front of the TV.

Perhaps this is the subtext of the story we tell each other: we're safe, we made it, we dodged the bullet again. Our story protects us. It's a healthy delusion, one that we probably couldn't live without.

Crank Up the War Room

In watching the Republican presidential debate last night, I was impressed by the confidence that all of the candidates conveyed in their opinions--whether or not they were citing facts or reinventing history or dodging questions. Their belief in themselves and in their ability to lead was unmistakable.

If President Obama is to wage a successful campaign against any of these individuals, he must slough off the passivity that often plagues him and get ready to fight. President Clinton's War Room comes to mind, where his advisers aggressively fought off attacks and proactively directed the debate.

The audience last night showed that many Americans embrace ignorance. Lofty speeches and deferential remarks will not readily defeat this passionate movement. Barack Obama needs to come out swinging.

Chinese Wisdom

I may have discovered the root of Barack Obama's current political problems. Forget all the pundits, ignore the press. The solution emerged in a Chinese fortune cookie at Hong Kong restaurant in Durham:

"An empty stomach is not a good political advisor."

Time to feed Bill Daley and the rest of the crew something other than arugula!

Wanted Desperately: Leadership on All Fronts

It feels like the calm before the storm. These last weeks before Labor Day have everyone hunkered down, quiet, recovering from the fury of Irene. Ten years ago we learned in horror what could happen after Labor Day, when airplanes flew as they pleased and took down a nation unaccustomed to such assault.

Our troubles now seem more far-reaching than they did then and cry out for leaders to lead. Will President Obama stand up boldly for jobs creation in his speech next week (see Eugene Robinson, Washington Post) or will he cave to his instinct for compromise? Will Democrats, reasonable Republicans, and Independents stand up for balanced approaches to our financial woes, or will they continue to let extremists set an extreme agenda?

The times call for those who don't normally view themselves as leaders to lead as well. Will scientists remain in their labs while Governor Perry and his ilk make false statements about climate change and evolution, or will someone stand up? Will ministers hide behind their pulpits while politicians turn their backs on the poor and disadvantaged, or will someone stand up?

And will our press and our people do their jobs as well? A media that constantly inflames rather than educates does a disservice to all, and a population of apathy where so few people vote emboldens demagogues.

A nation where no one leads is a sorry nation indeed. The resulting vacuum leaves opportunities for the worst sorts to exercise power. We need only to read history--or to observe the behavior of ourselves and colleagues at work--to understand this simple lesson.