Can You Hear Me Now?
Eight of us were gathering at a restaurant for a post mortem after Tuesday's debacle. Eight years earlier we were together when a dagger was stuck into the heart of our democracy. Now, somehow, that conversation was forced to continue.
But, Houston we have a problem. The restaurant where we chose to meet was situated well within earshot of a bar mitzvah party in full shout, a constant drumbeat of teenage testosterone our unwelcome companion. Plus the room where we were to dine was filled with people, how shall I put this gently, speaking at a decibel level that to the eight of us seemed just south of a lion's roar. Our collective ear rebelling at the cacophony.
The staff was clearly perplexed when our group, after a short huddle where we called an audible, made a hasty retreat from this establishment. Our assigned table remaining as empty as a promise of Mr. Trump to speak only truth, or voluntarily hand over his tax returns. The restaurant left to wonder where it had failed us.
The second place we travelled to, but a mile or so down the road, suffered a similar fate as the earlier one. We surveyed the scene, hesitated, testing the waters for a moment, one of us even having the courage to sit for an instant where we had been directed. Then we once again determined the place did not meet our sole quite reasonable demand that others gathered there with friends or family take a vow of absolute silence in our presence.
When did we become our grandparents? When did noise become a four letter word, our kryptonite? When did the old commercial for that cell phone company become our mantra? "Can you hear me now" our calling card.
Finally, we struck gold on our third attempt. A fairly cavernous Chinese restaurant, half empty, and in relative terms, quiet as a church mouse. Even here, the initial location rejected, as the table was considered too big to accommodate our ear's mandate.
The evening's conversation was marked by our unquestionable collective wisdom in determining what ailed our political universe. But it will be remembered by me not for our ability to decipher and delineate the cause of this nation’s woes but for our travels and travails in locating a suitable venue to air our grievances. The huddles and stares as we wandered around this town like one massive amoeba contemplating not our failing country but our failing senses.
We have vowed, if there is a God, to meet once more four years hence to celebrate this nation's return to sanity. But my firm belief is this must take place within the confines of one of our residences. Quiet (and also victory) being music to our ears.