It is gorgeous out

as gorgeous as it was yesterday. And I have to go to work now.

*Whimper*

City upon the hill

I have mixed feelings about the tributes that have been airing with the death of Ronald Reagan. I was part of the loyal opposition when he was President and spent much of those eight years perpetually outraged about something or other he had said or done: building up the deficit, his criminal indifference about AIDS, his cruelty toward the poor.

But NPR was broadcasting bits of some of his speeches this weekend, and I was forced to remember that he did have a boundless optimism about our country, and thought the very best of us. He also had very good speechwriters. One excerpt that brought tears to my eyes was from his farewell address, about his vision of the Shining City on the Hill:

The past few days when I've been at that window upstairs, I've thought a bit of the "shining city upon a hill." The phrase comes from John Winthrop, who wrote it to describe the America he imagined. What he imagined was important because he was an early Pilgrim, an early freedom man. He journeyed here on what today we'd call a little wooden boat; and like the other Pilgrims, he was looking for a home that would be free.

I've spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don't know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind it was a tall proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, wind-swept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace, a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity, and if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That's how I saw it and see it still.

And how stands the city on this winter night? More prosperous, more secure, and happier than it was eight years ago. But more than that; after 200 years, two centuries, she still stands strong and true on the granite ridge, and her glow has held steady no matter what storm. And she's still a beacon, still a magnet for all who must have freedom, for all the pilgrims from all the lost places who are hurtling through the darkness, toward home.

Partly my tears were at the thought of how much this vision has been lost. How could our present administration have forgotten this so thoroughly? Under their stewardship, America has become so much meaner, pettier and arrogant, no longer a beacon of hope but instead a cruel oppressor.

I want some of that optimism about and pride in my country back. How can we get it back?

(no subject)

The air is humid, but a breeze blows through the open window of my office. The air waits, tense with anticipation, for the rain.

Those brownies are still talking to me. I am still ignoring them.

Back to Lois' manuscript.

Workout today: Sharon Mann: Cardio: Step.