This morning I wake up with my usual Monday morning anxieties. After a rough week, I see that the news isn’t good for today’s opening on Wall Street. I read about a potential compromise on guns brewing in the United States Senate. I see where its supposed to be in the mid 90’s with oppressive humidity all week. I’ve got a guy coming to the house in just over an hour to trim back a few overhanging tree limbs. Meanwhile, the iPad I am typing this blog on has suddenly started behaving strangely, with an irritating gap between what I type and what appears on the screen.
Yesterday morning I finally went to Patient First to deal with the pain in my left elbow. I’ve had it for over two months now but unlike in the past, the pain now doesn’t come and go—instead it has taken up permanent residence. The perky doctor instantly diagnosed it as lateral tendinitis and proved his diagnosis with a couple jujitsu moves using his gloved hands and my left arm which hurt like hell, but served to bolster his assertions. He slipped a brace on my elbow that instantly relieved the pain which came with certain movements, then he prescribed a gel to apply liberally, then shuffled me out the door. The good news is that nothing is torn.
Pam and I find ourselves in a show hole, reduced to watching a Danish political drama with subtitles and rapid fire dialogue which gives you a headache, and is difficult to watch while eating. Take your eyes off the screen for ten seconds to cut up your steak and you’ve missed a key plot detail. It’s called “Borgen” and if you pay close attention to those subtitles its actually pretty good. Still, we keep hoping to discover the next Foyle’s War and we keep getting disappointed when we don’t.
I suppose we could always tune in the January 6th show, but my overpowering sense of self-preservation prevents me from doing so. I catch the thumbnail summaries the morning after and watch a few of the videos and thats bad enough. I have made the executive decision not to voluntarily watch what is basically an infomercial about the official decline of a nation. I understand enough about history to know that world dominance has a shelf life. The Romans had their time, the Greeks before them. The British ruled the world for a while and the United States has stood astride the globe as a colossus for almost a hundred years now. Nothing lasts forever. Maybe our time is up, our years of power and prestige is in decline. We seem hopelessly divided, increasingly brutish and nasty to each other, and led by men and women unequal to the task. Heck, we can’t even agree on a working definition of treason anymore, let alone convict anyone of it. Although our public schools can’t dependably teach kids how to read, write, add and subtract, we are well on our way to confusing the Bejesus out of them with regards to sexuality and the proper pronouns used to describe the burgeoning number of genders available for them to choose from. Its hard not to conclude that I live in a nation in decline.
Of course…I could be wrong. Many people before me have come to similar conclusions about the fate of our Republic and wound up spectacularly wrong. History is complex, the forces that drive it are often unknowable. Just when national decline seems assured someone invents the computer and all bets are off. So, my conclusions might be equally wrong.
I don’t know that I have ever needed Maine any more than I do this year.
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