Foot in the mouth disease

Alas, poor Hillary’s occasional bouts of foot-in-the-mouth disease may have finally become too serious to be conveniently overlooked (although many are trying to overlook it). Unless you are both blind and deaf and communicate with no one you must have heard of her recent gaffe: she mentioned the word assassination in the context of current politics. She said something to the effect that “as her husband did not sew up his nomination until mid-June, and Bobby Kennedy was assassinated in June, she did not understand…” That is the video clip that has been repeated endlessly all day. She says she was simply trying to make the point that her not dropping out of the race as yet was not unusual. Personally, I believe her, but I fear it is a bit more complicated than it seems. It was immediately assumed by some that she really meant she was sticking around because something terrible, like an assassination, could happen to Obama, a thought so dark many refuse to believe she could have meant it that way. I don’t believe she meant it that way, at least consciously. But how about subconsciously? I believe it would be only human for her to have at least a subconscious desire or hope that something might happen to give her the nomination, and assassination is just one of the things that could, potentially happen. The idea of assassination is in the air. I have heard several people over the past few months suggest it could happen to Obama (they are assuming, of course, there might be some screwballs out there that do not want a black President and would exercise this option if given a chance). But even beyond that, Huckabee tried to make a joke out of a loud noise while he was speaking to a crowd, saying it was Obama worrying about an assassination. None of these people would come right out and say they wished Obama would be assassinated, or even that they hoped he would, and I would give them the benefit of the doubt, just as I do Hillary. Nonetheless, the term has surfaced from somewhere, and I believe it lingers in the subconscious of many who are concerned with the current political scene. When you consider the fate of Dr. Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, is must resonate strongly within the black community. There will be many who will not forgive Hillary this time as they did when she misspoke about her Bosnia trip. Some even believe this will be the end of her campaign. She is obviously aware she made a blunder of massive proportions, whether this means she will finally be forced to give up remains to be seen.

Our little community here in a relatively remote corner of the country has a population of just over 2000. But as it is the only real town of any size and is also the country seat, it embraces about 10,000 people who inhabit the entire county. It is mainly an agricultural community but has also been importantly known for logging. In recent years there has been an influx of people from elsewhere, many from California, so the diversity for such a small population is quite considerable. This diversity has been enhanced by computer technology that allows people to work from home in various ways, while at the same time continuing in more traditional pursuits. Some live here for the natural beauty, some for the hunting and fishing, some because they have always lived here, and some because they want to be left alone. I have decided to offer an occasional vignette to illustrate what it is like to live here at the beginning of the 21st century.

For such a small community we have a rather nice hospital that offers most of the basic services you require (there is a helicopter service for services they are not equipped for). I had to have a blood test the other morning. For some reason they were much busier than usual. I had to wait. While waiting, two men entered and sat down across from me. One was very old and frail, walked slowly with a cane, and was wearing bedroom slippers. The other one was huge. He must have weighed a minimum of 250 pounds, was just under six feet tall, barrel-chested, and had an incredibly full black beard that, along with his bushy eyebrows, obscured most of his facial features, other than his dark brown eyes. He had long black hair that stuck out under a worn baseball cap, and wore a black t-shirt with an elk head outlined in white, heavy lumberjack suspenders, and a pair of heavy brown cotton work pants that stopped just short of his boot tops. It was easy to imagine him gutting an elk and even eating raw liver. I could not estimate his age, he could have anywhere from 35 to 50. While he was not downright terrifying he was not someone I would seek out for a friendly visit or a beer. My imagination being what it is, I could actually visualize him biting the heads of chickens for breakfast. As I watched the pair it became obvious the old man was his father and he was bringing him to the hospital. After a few minutes the bearded one rose, went to a magazine rack, picked up a National Geographic, and returned to his seat where he commenced reading to the old man. Such are my prejudices, I was surprised to see he could read. But he did, quietly, while gently pointing out pictures to the Old Man, who seemed to be interested at first, but then began to fall asleep. The reader shut the magazine, tried to make his father comfortable, and sat staring at the floor. Suddenly, and without warning, the large high-ceilinged waiting room was engulfed in the most incredible loud sounds. It took me a moment to realize it was the sound of dozens of flapping, honking, migrating Canadian geese. I couldn’t believe it! I stupidly looked at the ceiling to see if they were actually flying around the room. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped! I realized with amazing disbelief it was his cell phone ringing. He answered. I heard him say, “Yes, dear, I will, as soon as I take Dad home.”

LKBIQ:
“In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments—there are consequences.”
Robert G. Ingersoll