Last week, a young friend and I motored out to watch the traditional Wednesday races off Annapolis. As the bigger boats danced downwind, their spinnakers filled with light air that caught the setting sun’s rays in such a way that the fleet moved like a silent ballet of luminous globes—fireflies twinkling out on the water. It was refreshingly cool and quiet out in the Bay so we decided to run up the Severn, shut down the engine, and drift in Round Bay to watch the final act of sunset. What an end-of-summer treat!
This week the college kids arrived back in town, a sure sign that summer is counting down its days. I know that we recently suffered through a string of sultry afternoons and that we will surely have more before the season turns for good, but for the last few nights, we have been blessed with a porch-friendly and windows-open breeze that presages autumnal change. On one of those nights, friends came over to our house to sit outside and chat; the next evening, we returned the favor on a friend’s porch down on Water Street, enjoying a quiet nightcap as darkness drifted down over our river. The conversation was like the evening air: light, breezy, friendly.
But in the big world beyond our little town, these pleasant exchanges just don’t happen often enough. There’s just not much light air these days. We’re living in a hot world and I’m not talking about meteorological climate change, more like political climate change. Where there was once civil discourse, there is now ad hominem rage. Respectful differences of opinion have been relegated to the sidelines and Twitter rants have replaced thoughtful remarks. Inspiring oration has been dumbed down to rambling demagoguery; open-mindedness has turned to single-mindedness. No matter which side of the political continental divide you choose to live on, self-righteousness blocks the view to the other side. Even truth is apparently no longer truth, or so we’re told. In a word, sad.
Once upon a time, there was a common good and cooperation was its mainsail. But now chaos and confrontation are the pistons that drive this juggernaut. Newton’s third law of physics states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Applied to our current political situation, this would suggest that our current daily dose of animus and vitriol should eventually beget something more akin to empathy and understanding, but then again maybe Sir Issac’s laws don’t apply to more human institutions. All I know is that if we can’t find some lighter air soon, our current ship of state will continue to drift in an increasingly dark and hazardous sea.
I wish I could find a cure for these ills, but I can’t. I can observe, but I can’t fix. I’m just hoping for some lighter air. Until we find it, we’ll just have to set more sail on and hope for the best.
I’ll be right back.
Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer with homes in Chestertown and Bethesda. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy magazine. “A Place to Stand,” a book of photographs and essays about Landon School, was published by the Chester River Press in 2015. A collection of his essays titled “Musing Right Along” was published in May 2017; a second volume of Musings entitled “I’ll Be Right Back” will be released in June 2018. Jamie’s website is www.musingjamie.com.
Bob Moorres says
The problem arises because Blackheart the Pirate commandeered the ship by pitting half the crew against the other.
God willing, the crew will unite and make him walk the plank in two more years, or sooner.