I didn’t have much to say (obviously) about this weekend’s Glenn Beck rally on the Mall. I spent Saturday afternoon on the golf course (shooting a 77 on the par 72 Miramar golf course, with an inexcusable double bogey 6 on the par 4 eighteenth), and flew three flights on Friday on one of the sweetest days of the summer. The air itself being like fine white wine, if white wine were actually blue and maybe just a little bit turbulent on the coastal transition. Two-thirds of my guest pilots were overwhelmingly female, as a consequence of the fact that I briefed two of the three events, and briefers get to pick.
Almost entirely on weight and balance considerations, I assure you. Former USAF F-16 jock Pokey being a wee, slip of a thing, and your host remaining a man of a certain, shall we say, consequence. When it comes to weight and balance. (Pokey’s call sign being very well earned, I might point out. Deliberation in his pre-start routine far exceeding the normal requirements of key in, mixture rich, fuel selectors on, carb heat off, prime and crank.)
I’m not a particular fan of Glenn Beck, don’t dislike him either. Even while, as a student of American history, I recognized that religious revivals weave a recurrent thread through our national fabric, although somewhere between 300-500k of our fellow citizens peaceably assembling – and taking their trash home with them – is certainly more than just a blip on the radar. I just don’t see how this particular iteration will do all that much to sort out the national mess we find ourselves in. As individuals, I think that turning to God in times of trouble – and other times too – is a right and proper thing to do. But as an inheritor of the Protestant work ethic, I firmly believe that God will turn right back around and tell us, individually, to work a little harder in our own little spheres of influence. The harder our work, the greater His providence and so on.
So I regarded the 8/28 event with about the same reptilian indifference as one of my beloved wife’s favorite shows on the cooking channel: Greatly good for them as needs it, of no essential consequence to the rest of us. Although I am perhaps even now finding some linkage between weight and balance calculations in the mighty Varga 2150A Kachina and the Hobbit’s entertainment preferences.
But be that as it may.
I turned to those who were paying attention, and found out that the folks gathering on the National Mall were “overwhelmingly white,” at least as characterized by the overwhelmingly white news media that covered the event.
I have just one question, for all concerned: What the hell does that even mean?
Put another way, by one far more eloquent than I: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” — Martin Luther King, Jr.
I guess we all need to keep dreaming.