It’s
Canada Day. I’m sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in DC. Not
much Canadiana happening here but Independence Day is a few days off
and the excitement is already as thick as the humidity that has draped
Washington since I got here late last week. In terms of celebrating
Canada I can say I listened to the new Drake album front to back today -
twice. That’s about as far as I’m gonna go down that road.
It’s old hat to say that as the celebrations of our North American states move forward that we should recall the colonial and genocidal policies that led to our current affluence. It’s also almost cliche to call for some other sort of celebration - of life, of humanity, of indigenous and minority solidarity - so do whatever the fuck you want. You’re good people. There’s good people everywhere.
I’ve been to DC a handful of times. The last time was for the first inauguration of Barack Obama in 2009. The political landscape, and the overall feeling, in this city has certainly changed.
One of my favourite things to do here, however, is to head to the National Mall at night. It’s hard not to feel humbled by the presentation. The Capitol, the Washington Monument, the Reflecting Pool, the Lincoln Memorial, all lined up, flanked by world class museums in imperial constellation.
On this sweaty evening I’ve ended up at Lincoln, as seems reasonable, to ask him some questions, mostly along the lines of, How did we get here? I realize my nationality makes this somewhat absurd but I’ve recently signed on to the globalized thinking that we all belong to one thing and we can use our random nationalities as leverage to help one another. Maybe the Big L can help me explain what happens next.
This isn’t my first time on these steps. The imagery isn’t lost on me - it’s meant to make sense. A direct line from the Decision Makers to Lincoln the Guiding Voice. He’s perfect, in statue, even if in life he was anything but. I make a point of walking through the Vietnam Veterans Memorial on the way in - 58,000 dead on shining black panels. Hallowed ground. A waste of life in a waste of a war. MLK stood on these steps and said that He Had A Dream. He is also the one who spoke of a Moral Arc That Bends Towards Justice.
Justice is not linear, it’s a curving shot into the air, bending forever towards an unachievable landing. The linear structure of the National Mall is inherently flawed. But that’s The Image - a sense-making mechanism that has you believe.
I’m not sure what I believe anymore.
The Reflecting Pool is currently fenced off in preparation for the Fourth. There’s a large amount of pyrotechnics in place already. Indeed, sitting on patios around town the last few evenings there have been premature ejaculations of firework going off on the street. Visiting with journalists and embassy workers we wished that wasn’t the case - fireworks or gunshots? It’s hard to tell at first. Recent happenings in Annapolis an hour away has left us all a little rattled.
And yet, let us scorch the sky with colourful gunpowder, in celebration of Empire. Maybe those explosions in the sky can represent the dead in Vietnam and Iraq and Shamattawa and Orlando and Charleston, a brilliant presentation of innocent lives lost to folly.
Our time is short here. If you can afford to, love those around you. And if you have a Dream, pursue it. We can all certainly do better and it’s going to happen one small step at a time. A million small steps may actually get us somewhere but as of late I’m not really sure what the next step actually is. Perhaps ceasing to confiscate children from their parents might be a start.
Until next time, JIM.
It’s old hat to say that as the celebrations of our North American states move forward that we should recall the colonial and genocidal policies that led to our current affluence. It’s also almost cliche to call for some other sort of celebration - of life, of humanity, of indigenous and minority solidarity - so do whatever the fuck you want. You’re good people. There’s good people everywhere.
I’ve been to DC a handful of times. The last time was for the first inauguration of Barack Obama in 2009. The political landscape, and the overall feeling, in this city has certainly changed.
One of my favourite things to do here, however, is to head to the National Mall at night. It’s hard not to feel humbled by the presentation. The Capitol, the Washington Monument, the Reflecting Pool, the Lincoln Memorial, all lined up, flanked by world class museums in imperial constellation.
On this sweaty evening I’ve ended up at Lincoln, as seems reasonable, to ask him some questions, mostly along the lines of, How did we get here? I realize my nationality makes this somewhat absurd but I’ve recently signed on to the globalized thinking that we all belong to one thing and we can use our random nationalities as leverage to help one another. Maybe the Big L can help me explain what happens next.
This isn’t my first time on these steps. The imagery isn’t lost on me - it’s meant to make sense. A direct line from the Decision Makers to Lincoln the Guiding Voice. He’s perfect, in statue, even if in life he was anything but. I make a point of walking through the Vietnam Veterans Memorial on the way in - 58,000 dead on shining black panels. Hallowed ground. A waste of life in a waste of a war. MLK stood on these steps and said that He Had A Dream. He is also the one who spoke of a Moral Arc That Bends Towards Justice.
Justice is not linear, it’s a curving shot into the air, bending forever towards an unachievable landing. The linear structure of the National Mall is inherently flawed. But that’s The Image - a sense-making mechanism that has you believe.
I’m not sure what I believe anymore.
The Reflecting Pool is currently fenced off in preparation for the Fourth. There’s a large amount of pyrotechnics in place already. Indeed, sitting on patios around town the last few evenings there have been premature ejaculations of firework going off on the street. Visiting with journalists and embassy workers we wished that wasn’t the case - fireworks or gunshots? It’s hard to tell at first. Recent happenings in Annapolis an hour away has left us all a little rattled.
And yet, let us scorch the sky with colourful gunpowder, in celebration of Empire. Maybe those explosions in the sky can represent the dead in Vietnam and Iraq and Shamattawa and Orlando and Charleston, a brilliant presentation of innocent lives lost to folly.
Our time is short here. If you can afford to, love those around you. And if you have a Dream, pursue it. We can all certainly do better and it’s going to happen one small step at a time. A million small steps may actually get us somewhere but as of late I’m not really sure what the next step actually is. Perhaps ceasing to confiscate children from their parents might be a start.
Until next time, JIM.
