The Salve of History

I am bound to history. I know of no other way to exist. It grants me peace in a turbulent era. It informs us that we have been worse and that surely we can be better. It is both cautionary and hopeful; uplifting and humiliating. It is a boozy tonic to reflect upon-tasty but it stings a bit. I think of the past, not only of my own insignificant history but also of the shoulders of the giants whom I am lucky enough to rest upon.

I see a witty article in my own profession's magazine and I think of Osler, Semmelweis, Debakey and Paracelsus. I read political commentary

and I think of Lycurgus, Publicola, Solon, Justinian, Constantine, Henry the Second, Napoleon and so on and so forth. History leads me from the abstract to the intimate-from the Parthenon to the country chapel. I wonder, where are my old friends whom I've lost contact with? Facebook is a lovely Rolodex but its utility is otherwise highly suspect-possibly useless though I would digress if I were to attempt to chronicle the failures of social media attempting to replicate the value of earnest human connection.

I remember playing high school soccer with a cast of characters. What happened to them? Did they marry the partner of their dreams? Did they die of an opiate overdose? Did they find whatever salve they needed to cool the hot impetuosity of youth? Did they grow and mature into the ardor of their hearts? Despite the fact that our friendships may have been predicated upon the forced close interconnectedness of growing up in a small New England town rather than necessarily on shared values or admiration of respective talents, I miss that crew. They were all good kids. We all were kids. No shame in that.

My respect of history, both of my own and also that which I can glean from my own education, leads me to both fear for the future and also keep the soft light of hope on in a sometimes dark and chaotic world. The Orwellian Left, which claims a Mt. Sinai type of Providential knowledge but without the burning bush nor the Baconesque belief in scientific empiricism (because let's be honest here, one can be a heretic and burn at the stake of public opinion or one can nod and smile and carry on...regardless of the data and regardless of any moral truth), seems to think that they are both the final arbiters and judges of truth in some fictional "arc of history". The Conservative Right claims the Left is bereft of transcendence, all ceremony and no mystery, and corrupts science upon the dirty altar of political orthodoxy and yet they seem unable to offer a palatable alternative (spoiler: it exists). They elect Trump under their political banner and yet many don't claim him. The Left howls words like hypocrites and greedy and under the current system their cries carry a certain measure of truth. In actuality, both parties are like wild dogs over a carcass, aided and abetted by massive corporations who don't care about either pole, corrupting the spontaneous beauty of capitalism-the greatest boon to humanity to have ever been thought of and utilized since the inception of agriculture. These two old political enemies would snarl at their brother for an extra scrap of sustenance. Our allegiance should be complementary to their ability to govern themselves without descending into perversion, coarse language and idiocy.

There is no political party or even committed group of people who can articulate what it is we stand for as a country without digressing into either political tropes (racial, sexual, gender identities) or trite patriotic platitudes. Who is reading Cicero? Montesquieu? The Federalist Papers? Aristotle? Hegel? Plato? Burke? Not too many, I fear. Certainly not enough. However, the Kardashian sisters' travels are well documented and discussed (apparently Costa Rica currently). I pray that our elected leaders are reading a little more of Plutarch and a little less of People magazine.

And yet, history echoes on and on and on surrounding us with lessons we ignore at our own peril. If there was ever a time to read a bit more about it, now would seem apropos. And so I feel bound to history. Perhaps it is that I am getting older with a family of my own and I wonder about my own mortality. What have I done to improve men and women's lots in the world? I haven't great strength or talents nor great influence. I do, however, have a proverbial pen and an enlarged place in a globalized world. As an old poker friend used to say, a chip and a chair. I've played with less. As Sir Walter Scott once wrote, "Patience Cousin, and shuffle the cards."

In book news, I apologize to my legion of fans about the lack of website updates. I am, however, 23000 words into a new book tentatively entitled "The Meteorite". I'm breaking into science fiction and I'm....a little nervous about it! More to come!