Last weekend, Greta and I found ourselves in
Wagner Park, a pleasant little adjunct to Battery Park, watching fireworks soar and crash over Ellis Island, as a brass band in the park played Souza marches. A more thrilling yet comforting patriotic scene could hardly be imagined.
And yet, I felt some sadness. I could see the Statue of Liberty holding up her torch, but the championing of liberty is a concept that's fallen into ill repute recently. I wished I could feel a full-hearted pride in our democratic traditions, but I couldn't help thinking that today, the alleged champions of American liberty are torturers and domestic spies.
One question that's often on the minds of prospective parents is, How can I bring a child into this world, with all of its cruelty and dangers? For me, where we live is a constant reminder of the random and benighted nature of this cruelty ... and the danger; we live equidistant from both the
Stock Exchange and the
World Trade Center site, two places that jihadists would love to make go boom. Meanwhile, our
intrepid leaders are doing their best to encourage further violence, while exploiting these external threats to ensure that their power is
absolute and unchallengeable.
All of this was going through my mind as I watched the flowers of fire bloom over the harbor. Later, though, I thought about all of the families at the park, the kids running around, and how I had noticed the brass-band musicians laughing and joking between numbers. It is, of course, still a beautiful world, and despite our worst efforts, all of us are insanely fortunate to be living in this time and place, sleeping in comfortable beds with plenty to eat (not at the same time, usually), and not in immediate danger of being
imprisoned on a Navy brig indefinitely without trial.
When that little person comes out of Greta, I hope that we will be able to raise it to appreciate its good fortune relative to most of the rest of the world, and to recognize the beauty that surrounds us, and to oppose brutality and foolishness. I also hope that it will be a little less politically obsessed than its father ... it'll make it easier for it to enjoy fireworks shows.
I had a dream the other night that I gave birth to our little black cat, Widgie. And today, as Jim and I were walking home, I had a vision of to giving birth to a real, live chicken. We decided that even if I am carrying a chicken, we will still love it. Jim said we would cook it and eat it, but I reminded him we don't eat chickens. The cats are another story (they like to eat chickens).
