The tall ships have come and gone. We’re no longer dreaming of the19th Century; we’re back to the harsh realities of the 21st…
Today is Tuesday; Election Day. For the past several weeks, we’ve been inundated with “I approved this message” attack ads and by all manner of political reporting. Each day is more venomous than the previous one. I’d like to think that we could get through today and begin to move on—to heal—but I know that’s a pipe dream. We’re in for another grotesque round of recrimination and violence so buckle up.
When the tall ships were on parade and in port over the weekend, it was easy to believe that our history was a pleasant dream, but we know that for many, it was a nightmare, living hell. Only a thin and fragile line separates good and evil, hope and horror. For the past few days, I lived in the dream that everything was going to be alright, but once all the tall ships sailed away, I found myself standing on a wobbly dock, wondering what’s coming around the bend just downriver from here, the place we call “Devil’s Reach.”
There is so much we take for granted: safe schools, good health, and fair elections with peaceful transitions of power spring immediately to my mind. The philosophy of Solipsism was founded in ancient Greece, and is based on the belief that everything in the universe happens only in the mind and is, therefore, just an illusion. At one time, I would have declared myself a realist, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe only good is an illusion; evil is the real way of this world.
No. We’ve come too far to give up now. Winston Churchill, an avowed monarchist, described democracy as “the worst form of government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.” John Adams was much less sanguine: “Remember: democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide. It is in vain to say that democracy is less vain, less proud, less selfish, less ambitious or less avaricious than aristocracy or monarchy.”
Despite the reality of climate change and global warming, I believe our lives are lived on thin ice. Sometimes it’s the decisions we make that influence the course of human events, but at other times, it seems to me that maybe the universe is at the mercy of Brownian Movement, those erratic, random motes of dust that are constantly swirling around us that turn the tide. I would like to think that my faith in my fellow citizens is strong enough to pull me through the next few days, but that’s the thing about dreams: sometimes, it’s hard to distinguish between what is real and what isn’t.
Those tall ships were real. And they were beautiful. They reminded me of what once was, not in any Pollyannish sense, but as a living snapshot of our past, for better or for worse. And I want to believe that this election is neither a dream nor a nightmare; that democracy won’t murder itself and that everything will be alright.
Please, God, make it so.
I’ll be right back.
Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives in Chestertown. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine. His new novel, “The Tales of Bismuth; Dispatches from Palestine, 1945-1948” explores the origins of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is available on Amazon.