I did not realize it was 911 until I was up and about this morning. My NPR station sounded off with the taps that was being played at the White House. I watched CNN at the gym as the names were read off in front of the World Trade Center, thinking of my cousin’s daughter who made it out alive, and all the others who did not. How life in DC, and in America has changed in these eight years. It was very sad, and I cried after dropping off my carpool.
I wondered if under the leadership of President Obama, America could recapture some of the global goodwill we had in the days after the attacks. We had come to the brink of maturing as a culture, the way that old places and peoples have matured through their times of deepest darkness and grief. But we missed that opportunity to mature, instead needing to blame the first scapegoat the former administration could enact vengeance against. In the sentiments of playwrite Tony Kushner, there are still no angels in America. We don’t have the spiritual depth to keep and attract good angelic help. Maybe we haved earned it.
On the other hand, last weekend my sister, her boyfriend and I took Alison to the Jimmy Buffett concert. I had never been, but my sister had been twice and said it was one of the places one had to visit before one passed. She was right: it was sort of like the Renaissance Faire goes Key West, but completely embodied. Pre-concert antics aside, for three solid hours, we were on our feet singing and dancing and cheering. And despite the beach culture depicted, very few of this multi age crowd was disabled with happy substances. We really were high on life.
So very not deep, but also so very authentic and joyful and mindful. Makes me think that although there are no angels in America, there are cherubins dancing and frolicking and celebrating the end of a hard work day. After all, it is five oclock somewhere.
Have a great frolicking weekend. We have earned it.