I still am a Republican. Worst day of my life was August 17th, 1990, my birthday as it happens. Pat Buchanan and Pat Robertson decided to hijack the party that night at the Republican Convention, declaring a "culture war."
Are you sure about the year, young lad? That wasn't, how you say, a Presidential election year.
Howsomever, what I recall vividly about that convention was that the "Theme Song" of the convention--perhaps influenced by "Hello Lyndon" in 1964--was "The Best of Times". And I wondered if Jerry Herman was having a fit hearing his song played over and over, interspersed with virulent gay-bashing rhetoric. Did the organizers of the Convention even know the origin of the song and the irony therein?
As to our DRs Swoody and Der B. being well-known in these parts as active Republicans, all I can say is more power to you in winning back your Party from the forces of darkness. Gee, I remember when the Republican Party stood for fiscal responsibility...
9/11: I thought I had posted at length on this site at the time, checked the archives, and learned that haineshisway was but a gleam in the eye of BK then.
How time do fly.
I was at work early, as is my wont, and Joe called me because his sister had called and told him to put on the TV. I soon found one of the other professors had a set in his office, and the building was all abuzz. I told Joe I would have to stay till 10:45 to tell my students class was canceled.
A student knocked on my office door and asked very shyly if I would mind awfully much if she didn't come to class that day--her mother worked in the WTC. I just told her to be careful getting home and said a prayer. The rest of the week, I kept scanning the lists of the missing on the Internet for her mother's name. Fortunately, she got out in time.
My friend Debby was frantic, because her brother had an appointment at the WTC at 9 that morning, and it wasn't until a couple of days later that she managed to talk to him in the city and learn he had overslept for his appointment.
My Joe's sister Barbara worked a couple of blocks away from the towers, and we didn't learn
she was okay for a couple of nail-biting days.
I stayed around the office until I was sure the art teacher, who lived in the Village with his wife and infant daughter, had a place to stay on the Island--another faculty member from the city who had a summer home out here.
Then I got on the side roads to drive home, not trusting people's driving on the Parkway.
I think Joe and I just hugged and thanked G*d for each other through the weekend. I do remember having panic feelings every time I heard a plane fly over for weeks after that.
And exactly two weeks to the day later, the MacBeths were banigng on our door threatening our lives, and Joe panicked and foolishly went outside with his father's shotgun, and... but that's another story.
