Platitudes
Every now and then I receive an endlessly-forwarded e-mail featuring a story meant, I think, to evoke an emotional response of some kind (preferrably to be expressed by forwarding on same e-mail). The impossibly long list of previous recipients leads me to assume that my own response — a rolling of the eyes and a quick jab of the delete button — must be atypical. While I am comfortable with my reaction it seems lonesome to realize that there are so many of them and so few of me. That’s what living in Florida (and, to some extent, Puerto Rico) was like.
What a difference a new town makes. The sense of isolation and aloneness is all but gone. Previously I had invested most of my adult life, among other things, on the proposition that “it doesn’t matter where you live.” This I now believe was a remnant of received wisdom from my passively Catholic people (and family, especially), unaccustomed to voicing discontent over anything of importance. Enough times hearing (having it forwarded to you, so to speak) “It doesn’t matter where you live,” “Money doesn’t buy happiness,” “Don’t worry about tomorrow,” and “Blessed are the meek” and it’s easy to start believing “That’s just how things are.”
I’ve become increasingly aware of the drive of the empowered throughout history to instill complacency (or at least, compliance) upon the rest of the population, be it through physical intimidation (think, totalitarian laws enforced through military and secret police actions), psychological persuasion (think, propaganda and mis-education), or religious fervor (think, Nazism or Wahabism). It’s quite disturbing to learn. It’s even more disturbing to see this happening right here, right now, in my very own United States of America.
Fortunately, a lot remains of the spirit of resistance that gave birth to this nation. For some bovine reason I had blissfully expected that next week, with the Republican National Convention here, would be just another regular seven days in NYC. But now I wonder if I may not have arrived to this city just in time to watch history unfold. Huge swaths of the local populace have scheduled vacation time through the end of the month: some have rented out their abodes for a pretty penny. Employers are actually encouraging telecommuting. People along the flight path to La Guardia Airport greet arriving conventioners with ceiling-mounted signs that are visible out their airplane windows. And, despite the considerable army mobilized, ostensibly to protect us from “terrorism” (but likelier to be here to squelch any form of visible dissent), there is every indication to believe that the voice of discontent of the people of New York City will not be so easily silenced. Things could get ugly. Regardless, after this it will be very difficult for our visitors to pretend that only a few rabblerousers disagree with the way they’ve abused our nation’s good name. Let freedom reign, indeed.
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