i find myself in a reflective mood tonight. i just attended the Leopold Lecture, this year by Lee Hamilton, former Congressman and Chairman of the House Foreign Relations Committee. I liked his speech. He was realistic and he was determined. He understood America is fallible, but he also understood that we are a great nation, and also — something that should not even need to be said — that we have a right to defend ourselves.
after his speech, i raised my hand and asked the first question. my voice was shaky. i shouldn’t have been nervous, but i was. it was ok; i said what i needed to say. i say that my grandfather had been in the CIA. he had served his country as a member of “the Greatest Generation.” and i said that all around me, here at Northwestern, i see nothing of “the Greatest Generation.” people have given me two responses when i ask them what they think of the war in Afghanistan: either they say they haven’t been following it closely enough and don’t know, or they say it will accomplish nothing and do more harm than good.
Congressman Hamilton answered my question well. but it wasn’t until the end that he answered it. i think he stepped out of political mode then, after he had sufficiently covered his bases. he said, “if they don’t support the effort, then i guess you and i have some work to do in convincing them.” it’s true. i need to do something about it.
there was a lovely reception after the lecture in that ornate room in Harris. i talked to a few people, and several, the Congressman included, said i had asked a good question. that meant a lot to me. it was mostly older people, with a few undergrads like me slinking around eating hors d’ourves and getting beer even though they weren’t 21. no beer for me. somehow, the reception seemed too important. it was as if the older people there exposed us — my generation, my age-group, my cohort — with their life experience, their credibility, their connection to the past. something about being in a reception room with older people… and the reception was for a speech on such a weighty topic.
it seems as though my concept of history began September 11th, 2001, with my mom waking me up to tell me what had happened. everything else in the span of my current events-conscious mind has been minimized and downplayed, or has been too remote to be experienced. the gulf war, monicagate, Y2K, all of it. but this is real. i’m living in history now. i’m living in a moment that a thousand books will reference, and another ten thousand citing the first thousand. sitting here, in this comfortable library, on this comfortable campus, i can look into the future and be anxious, even afraid. and yes, let it be said, evil is real. i am tired, so tired, of people snickering at “evil,” like “evil” is the boogie man and only simplistic folk believe in it. it is real. i am not ashamed to say that. laugh at me if you will.
so. what to do? writing in this library doesn’t “do” anything. in reality, perhaps i should first pray that there will be no necessity for me to do anything — the situation will be resolved by the time i complete college. but this is not realistic. after graduation, should i go into the FBI, or perhaps the CIA and follow in my grandfather’s footsteps? i can’t say now. i don’t now. and besides, that is a long way away. twenty months might not seem so long, but after all, it only took a day.
two
i shuffle through the dim-lit streets
wet leaves tugging at my ankles
a cold wind hurrying my pace
it is good here, though, at its root
i walk into the warm building
and shoulders relax, my breath comes stronger
i feel potential
three
when it comes to friends, i think there are two kinds of people: those who value lots of acquaintances and those who value a few close friends. i am in the latter category, and some of my friends seem to be in the former category.
four
sometimes, i feel something twisted up inside my stomach, pushing up through my chest, spidering down my arms and snaking into my skull. it grows inside me from the pit of my stomach like a tree. it pushes outward, producing a dull tension. and then it flows through and out of me. i wrote the right thing.
five
about a week ago, i was sitting in deering tower doing homework and a possum walked right along the window, a foot from me. it was cool. then, just now, 11:15pm, three racoons came by and looked at me. they sniffed at me and came as close to the window as they could. i’m not sure if anyone else cares — well, i’m pretty sure no one else does — but it was neat. it put a big smile on my face.
see above.
six
brrr. woke up today and i was FREEZING. there’s evidently a problem with the boiler in my building, and it’s been somewhere around 60 degrees, if not lower, in my apartment. so when i awoke in the morning, i had to jump out of bed, gather up all my clothes for the day, run to the bathroom, and jump into the shower. bleh.
then i went to 9:00 a.m. TA section for Culture and Society and was treated like a kindergartener. joy.
and then i went to Culture and Society, the class, to hear a lecture/SERMON by Elizabeth Chin, who brought an especially cliche, simplistic, and ultimately racist sociological perspective of New Haven, CT to our wonderful class. gotta love going to college… i’m exposed to all these viewpoints! (whoops! only if they’re liberal, that is…)
but after Culture and Society, i was in for a treat, and i write that with no sarcasm. Ahuvia Kahane, who heads up the College Scholars program, had a lunchtime get-together for the Scholars to talk about performance and poetry in Homer’s works and modern day music. sounds pretty boring, right? well, no, because at the end, Professor Kahane rapped the first 36 lines of Homer’s Iliad in Greek over Nas’s “The Message.” you read right: Nas. seriously, the dude got out a boombox and played track 2, then spoke the Greek right over-top of it. we also went over Nas’s lyrics, and let me tell you, it’s hilarious to hear a very educated, very intelligent professor read lyrics like “you freak niggas played out.”
and later today, i talked to Robert for a while. he’s living in Newport Beach, has his own apartment, and is working 2 jobs. Robb is Robb. i hope he’s happy. he never really seems content, but at least he’s sober and his head is clear. it’s sounds like he’s a bit more realistic about things — just living day-to-day and not with grandiose, unreachable aspirations for the future.
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