“Shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice
Cry ‘Havoc!’ and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.”
Antony in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar [Act III, scene i>
I’m not sure how I feel about the upcoming day. It’s the anniversary, but then, how has my world changed? How has your world changed?
Since 9/11/01, I’ve taken more time to understand certain elements in my life. I tend to vote “green” or Democratic, and I’ve tended to have a very low opinion of our former governor. Still do. But. He is my President, right or wrong, and as the Commander-in-Chief, he’s the boss. I’ll follow him. I’ll ask questions, but then, I have a right to ask questions if I want to.
Not so very long ago, up in Dallas, I had dinner with a couple of friends. One of my friends had a new male companion with her, a male of Arabic descent. Look: I’m Sagittarius. I wade right on in and ask the questions instead of acting casual and sly.
He was, in his words, “A cafeteria Muslim.” Means he didn’t eat pork – very often. It’s hard to live in this country and not occasionally succumb to the pleasure we call “bacon.” And according to his version of his faith, he was forgiven. I pressed a few more questions, as he’d read the Koran in its original language, “Yeah, all those martyrs? They are all doomed to hell. It’s a sin to take a single life in the name of Allah.”
Sure beats the rhetoric I’m hearing from some circles. But then he was also just a “cafeteria Muslim.” I used to get served horrid fried fish every Friday, at one place, in honor of “cafeteria Catholics,” I suppose. Or I’ve got more than a few “cafeteria Jews” in my list of friends. I even know a Baptist who dances.
In the last year, I’ve been to a Pagan wedding, celebrated Seder with a Jewish couple, and had my dose of grape juice at the rail in a Lutheran church. All works for me. Freedom of religion.
Being true to my sign, I asked point blank why the “cafeteria Muslim” moved to America. He answered with a question, “You like your president?” No, he wasn’t my choice on the ballot. But I only got one vote. “Say something like that in the country I was born in?” You’d be shot.
Think about that next time – before you forward me a joke about the former president, or the current president. In other countries, to this day, the population does not have a right to ridicule their leaders.
Our system is far from perfect. Big money apparently buys big favors. But there’s always a chance. Our political playing field is far from level. At least we have a political playing field.
