Red Shoes

In the late ‘40s, a movie called “The Red Shoes” – which has since become a classic – detailed the way in which said shoes developed a life of their own, causing the death of the beautiful ballerina who could not arrest their movements. It is a complex film; an exploration of obsessive devotion to one’s art.

The Pope’s predilection for wearing red shoes brought the movie to mind, and his comments at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C. evoked the obsessive compulsion of the Pontiff to turn the Catholic Church’s shame into a lecture on the evils of secularism.

We all know why the head of the Church avoided Boston during his trip: scene of the most horrific sexual abuse by members of his flock on the youth of the city’s parishes. In his papal way, the Pope managed to tie such abuse – and countless others – to the general lowering of values caused by “the subtle influence of secularism.” As a proud non-believer, this seems to stretch the truth into the arena of – horrors! – mortal sin. One warranting confession and absolution for even the Pope.

I admit to stretching, too. To the confluence of Hillary – and we all know she is a bastion of truth and integrity – pointing manicured fingers at every sentence coming out of the mouth of her splendid opponent for the presidency, Barack Obama. Attempting to divert attention from one’s own malfeasance in office to the supposed defects in another, is an approach favored by those who tout sanctity in both the religious and political arenas.

To quote Obama, “for shame” on both their houses – the Pope’s and Hillary’s.

Comments? Rebuttals? All are welcome…

Hope

As a ridiculously devout abstainer of all things technological – someone who has a symbiotic relationship with my beloved IBM Selectric II typewriter – I am so grateful to friends who make joining the current century possible for me. This blog is turning out to be a joy: getting political and personal feelings and thoughts out of my head – heretofore only available by way of newspaper/magazine print – and out on the space highway.

Barack Obama. Not since I gave my allegiance to Bobby Kennedy have I felt so inspired and hopeful for true, meaningful, purposeful change. Yes, that word has been short-changed and even demeaned by people like McCain and Hillary; however, this man, this incredible man with his incredible heritage, makes the daily indignities of life bearable.

Those who bring him down; those determined to blame him for his pastor’s words; those who continue to support the chameleon-like Hillary, in spite of her racist rhetoric, bewilder me. A determination to feel “entitled” to be president, no matter the destruction of the party she represents, bewilders me.

I remember, during Bobby’s tragically brief campaign, people reaching out to him. To touch him. To make contact with him, no matter how brief the connection. And I see it now with Obama – the urge to make contact, even momentarily, with a person of exquisite verbal magic. But his words aren’t superficial, nor said for effect; they have deep roots in his very being. In his heart and superb cortex.

Hope. I still have hope that this country will realize the potential of Barack Obama, and for his capacity to create enlightment and reconciliation. For restoring our country’s reputation and regard in this troubled world of ours.