Good Morning.
The funeral on Wednesday was perhaps the best ever as these events go. There were thoughtful, wonderfully delivered eulogies from historian Jon Meacham, former Canadian prime minister Brian Mulroney, and former Wyoming senator Alan Simpson, the last two speaking from a portable podium so they didn't have to climb the steps to the pulpit. The music was great, the setting magnificent, and the military and religious protocol inspiring, but there were some interesting interpersonal dynamics.
Before the family arrived, the guests were milling around in the huge cathedral. Prince Charles quietly blended into the crowd and German chancellor Angela Merkel spoke with several people so I assume she has some fluency in English. Many Europeans do - so they can communicate with Americans, most of whom wouldn't know a word of German, French, or Spanish if they tripped on it. I enjoy watching Merkel. Her facial expressions and body language leave nothing to the imagination at these summits for the high-ups. There were politicians currently in office and those from bygone years, but some appeared to be avoiding the niceties that used to be part of funerals for dignitaries and other occasions that require mingling. Divisiveness we call it, pronounced with either a long or a short i, the second one.
After the crowd settled into their pews we had a chance to see the first row on the left side facing the altar. There we had President and Mrs. Carter, President and Mrs. Clinton, and President and Mrs. Obama. The Carters look great for a couple in their nineties and the former president chatted easily with the former Secretary of State. The Clintons and Obamas seemed to get along fine, visiting with each other cordially, but then the current president and his wife were escorted to their places next to the Obamas and I'm betting that most of the congregation and plenty of TV viewers at home just flat out cringed. The Obamas extended their hands and the Clintons nodded politely but the tension was awful.
Then the Bushes arrived and George 43 greeted everyone in the presidential pew but when he got to Michelle, he reached into his pocket and handed her a piece of candy. He had done the same thing at the McCain funeral and got some very fine press from the gesture, but George and Michelle seem to have a genuine warmth for each other and it's nice. The world could use more candy being passed around.
In the second pew were the vice-presidents. There we had the Pences, Dan Quayle, finally looking his age, and his wife, Dick and Lynne Cheney, Joe and Jill Biden, and Al Gore, alone on the end. These people were clearly uncomfortable with each other and sat there, staring ahead, stiff as boards. Someone should have passed a bag of M and Ms among them. Seriously.
Hey, Dick, I saved the red ones for you.
It was interesting to see who sang and who prayed. The Carters, Obamas, and Clintons did both but the current prez did neither. He looked like a fish out of water but the camera, blessedly, wasn't on him much. It was on the people across the aisle who obviously care about each other a great deal and were holding hands and occasionally smiling in their grief. George 43's remarks were perhaps the best he's ever given; they were heartfelt, wise and touched with a bit of humor, and his choking up during the last seconds was the perfect ending. Strong men, even military and political leaders, cry under difficult circumstances. Weak, emotionally underdeveloped men do not.
I want the candy and civility.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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