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Writer's picturebetsineid

It's Called Dignity.


Good morning.

What is always so compelling at the funerals of high-ranking people, particularly those at the National Cathedral, is the protocol, a prescribed conduct that makes, or at least attempts to make, the people in attendance step up to the plate, if only briefly. They're in dark suits and dresses, not just because black and navy are the colors of mourning but because they're the colors of respect for the ceremony itself. The military sets the tone when the casket is borne from the hearse up the steps and down the center aisle and the clergy takes it from there. I find it magnificent, and in the current political climate, it was especially welcome this past weekend, even under very sad circumstances.


There they were, most of the Washington bigwigs, scrunched into the pews together. Someone said the seating had been prearranged to make sure that people of opposite parties had to put their games in the cupboard for an hour or two, close to three on Saturday. Some were more comfortable than others; the Bushes and the Obamas are actually quite friendly, imagine such a thing, and George passed Michelle a piece of candy or a cough drop at one point during the services. The two former presidents were reportedly selected to do the main eulogies for several reasons but probably because they always behave themselves impeccably under solemn circumstances. Meanwhile, Bill Clinton was visibly chewing gum. He apparently got rid of it when it came time for the hymns because you cannot sing with gum in your mouth; it's physically impossible. Listen up, Bill; you don't chew gum at the National Cathedral.

Mitch McConnell, Chuck Schumer, Paul Ryan, and Nancy Pelosi, all seated together, appeared to be rubbing up against sandpaper. These people don't like each other and remind us of that every day of the week. Dick Cheney looked as if he'd eaten a bag of nails for breakfast, and the current chief of staff, General Kelly, sat stone-faced throughout the morning. He clearly wanted to be anywhere else, given the commentary about his employer that found its way into some of the tributes, or maybe he was glad to have a few hours of peace.

Joe Lieberman, one of the three amigos and an Orthodox Jew, mentioned, quite jovially, that his dear friend had scheduled his services on the Jewish Sabbath and talked about building a house with a balcony in Jerusalem so he and John could look out at the holy city together. I liked that a whole bunch, and yes, John should have picked him instead of Sarah who wasn't invited to the funeral. She was the first one to start spitting out what has come to be acceptable vitriol, John didn't appreciate it, and she paid the price: no invite. The family made it very clear that if you do this stuff, you don't get to celebrate someone who patently rejected it, and that sentiment was part and parcel of daughter Meghan's tearful, deeply felt remarks.

Unfortunately the message of getting along and behaving with some basic manners - your mother's household version of decorum - will not last. The country is in a state of total upheaval at the moment, and it will get worse before it gets better because election season officially starts tomorrow. I plan to spend the fall with warm fires in the fireplace and books that inspire me. Perhaps I shall begin with For Whom the Bell Tolls.


Best regards,

Elisabeth


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