Well, a discouraging week. Romney lost the election and now we have the moral failure of General Petraeus. I admired Petraeus and can believe that some are stunned. I am among them. Just when I was beginning to sort myself out after the abasement of the thought of four more years: this.
I figured the election out by nine o’clock on Tuesday evening, and went to bed by ten. Wednesday was a low day, and so was Thursday, I admit, the only cheer being in the consideration that maybe the federal government will be gridlocked and the state governments in the hands of some not altogether despicable Republican governors. Not much cheer though.
Speaking of the election, I thought of writing a letter to Romney. It is honorable to make the effort, and honorable for somebody to put their character up as a target in a US presidential race for the purpose of stopping bad ideas, evil influences and profligate ideologues.
I don’t think there is all that much wisdom in the persons who are presently diagnosing suddenly obvious wrong moves and what should not have been done which all of a sudden they see very clearly. It doesn’t, as we say in Spanish, call me much the attention. I hope Romney doesn’t go for that kind of thing and I hope he doesn’t quit, whatever he does next. But then he probably has plenty of people giving him decent advice; so I didn’t write him a letter in the end.
So Petraeus is fallen and Biden is snug and Boehner must stand in a place where even the chief justice finds it difficult, and we must go on. And it isn’t the political situation that one finds discouraging, but what it all means or seems to mean. It’s like having a flock of bad omens gather in the bare branches above the way.
Maybe it’s just a bunch of birds and just another part of November’s routine novemberness. Still, one can hope, can’t one? This is how winter begins, and what could be more Nordic? I sit in my overwarmed apartment reading Sagas, and dreaming of the bitter wind and the North Atlantic Sea.