6 April 2011

Often I am traveling and miss the great spring event in Washington, the Cherry Blossom Moment, but this time, thanks in part to Global Warming which delivered an unprecedented long winter (I know, it makes no sense, but that’s science for you), this time I was here to witness the splendor of my own personal Tidal Basin Cherry Blossom tree in full bloom, given to me by a grateful real estate agent when we bought the place 18 years ago.

“See the tree how big it’s grown
First time that I planted it
Was just a twig”

Say what you will about the Baby Boomers — we destroyed the economy (guilty), we mortgaged our children’s future (guilty), we are going to live too long and constitute a burden on our children (guiltyagain, I hope) — but what you cannot accuse us of is failing to produce some of the most risible, grating pop music in recorded history. Case in point is the above excerpt from “Sunny, I miss you”, a song which, psychological testing has proven, needs only to be listened to once and it sticks in your head like fly paper. It goes on:

“She wrecked the car
And she was sad
And so afraid
That I’d be mad
But what the heck?”

Iambic pentameter it ain’t. Can you stand another?

“And honey, I miss you
and I’m bein’ good
and I’d love to be with you
if only I could.”

Driving to work past Embassy Row on Mass Ave, you can see the demonstrators outside the Libyan Embassy, and a spanking new Ivory Coast Embassy, with an impressive iron elephant outside. Seems that Mr. Gbagbo (sounds like a character out of Lord of the Rings) remains reluctant to step down and honor the Will of the People. The African Union was not helpful, to say the least. Then Mr. G overstepped and took potshots at the UN, which appears prepared to blast him out of power.

Meanwhile, back in Tripoli, Muammar ponders his future.

It’s spring, and as Fitzgerald put it, I have a familiar feeling of life starting all over again.

Rupert Scofield


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