Yesterday morning I was in the mood for a little Ray Charles (Georgia on My Mind) and by afternoon I was leaning more toward Jimi Hendrix (The Star Spangled Banner).
This year I missed seeing people parading their college colors up and down Las Olas Boulevard – another casualty, thanks to fan-free Bowl games, of the pandemic. They give the street a festive atmosphere, and they remind me of the days when kids wore the names of colleges on their sweatshirts (usually bought by aspirational parents) instead of those of clothing chains. Our national decline can probably be traced to the year in which Banana Republic replaced Columbia University on casualwear.
Over 80,000 people passed through Miami International Airport on Sunday. Half the country is suffering through a pandemic and the other half is taking a vacation.
“How can you live there?” northern friends sometimes ask Floridians after an election, especially those of us who moved here from the north. The tacit suggestion is that we should leave such a backward place. (Never mind that Broward, our home county, voted overwhelmingly for Biden). While my question to them is: “If you’re so disappointed in the state’s performance why don’t you move here and improve it?”
Last week, when people were marveling at the long lines at polling stations, and taking comfort from them (large numbers of Americans politically involved), I remembered an article I read many years ago in a British magazine. The author argued that the habitually lackluster turnout in American elections, rather than a disgrace, was a sign of the nation’s health. It is in corrupt, disastrously mismanaged countries, he noted, where the population (if allowed) flocks to the polls out of desperation.
And I thought: We’ve become one of those countries.
Today I think, even more sadly: We’re that unique country that comes out in droves for corruption and mismanagement.