The “It” may be interpreted: the election, the country, the American Way, etc. As I write this, I have no idea who won what. As a non-partisan columnist, the secret of my preferences is sacrosanct, so I will refrain from detailing the horrors ahead for the LGBT community if she didn’t win. In either case, I trust Americans will accept the outcome and move on, believing and hoping all will be united toward the same goal: the betterment of our country.
The recent animosity pervading our shores culminated in distressing comments such as from a woman on TV seriously declaring if her side didn’t win, it was “time for the military to step in.” More than upsetting, it was frightening. Her anger has grown from years of shameful governmental deadlock due to competing sides being inflexible to the point of creating a virtual impasse to critical legislation. What an insult to our forefather’s dream.
Both sides, however, grandly invoke the Constitution, Bill of Rights and Declaration of Independence. These glorious documents written for the nation and the world of 250 years ago are offered as if carved in stone and self-interpreted to support policies aimed at our much changed present. Unaltered, however, is the carefully constructed structure of our government and its three branches: Executive, Legislative and Judicial deliberately designed to be worked together through compromise. Often done grudgingly, but done.
This ideal works only if we all participate, not just the great powers at the top, but individual citizens as well. The winners and losers must get a grip and realize how great America is and how we got it this way: together.
Dining a la Ritzy
My dining venues are more in the Denny’s genre. I am stressed venturing into Applebee’s and on the edge of trauma entering the exalted Olive Garden. It was a thrill, therefore, when a group of friends and I were invited to dine at a fancy restaurant (real cloth napkins!). Champagne to start, then a veritable parade of servers brought in the soup and, later, the salad separately. Nice, but not very efficient. Anyway, next came dinner. For those who had ordered the fish “a la Frenchy something,” a server wheeled in a special table and in front of everyone sliced out the spines and rib bones. What a spectacle. I’d ordered chicken and anticipated a bravura performance of flamboyant gutting and plucking. Alas, time restraints, they claimed, dictated otherwise.
Another disappointment was noticing several guests were having the boneless fish slabs, but not a single bottle of ketchup was on the table. I mentioned this and everyone quickly insisted they never used it. So all was well.
Sundry wines were offered producing the obligatory sipping, smelling and tasting pantomime culminating in a genteel nod of acceptance and for our edification it came from a certain year, month, French village, vineyard and third vine to the left of the privy. Do they really know champagne from spiked ginger ale? I sure don’t. But for those prices, there must be something to it. I asked for water and got a kind with bubbles, no ice.
The evening was delightful and my chicken, another “a la Frenchy something,” was clearly not from Kentucky, yet delicious. Rounding it off were sinful desserts which I ate to be polite. I’ll go again if I can find someone to foot the bill.
