(if I were the) King of the Forest

Following the disputed presidential election in 2000, and continuing into George W. Bush’s presidency, die-hard ‘liberals’ — and I use the term with reluctance, because I consider such labels inadequate to the task of identifying a consistent political ideology these days — put forth a concerted effort in the media to dispute his legitimacy, deride his authority, and torpedo his agenda. I am no fan of either George W. Bush or Al Gore, and find much to criticize in our new president, but I find this liberal intransigence both disrespectful of our institutions and divisive in a time of social and political fragmentation.

Last week’s massacre in Chiapas, Mexico of dozens of people by a paramilitary strike-force involved in the Zapatista uprising has once again brought into our living rooms, accompanied by jaded shock, ignorant analysis, and color photographs, the man-made horrors that plague our world. We get the initial reports, rushed to us in a frenzy to be the first on-the-air, with contradictory eye-witness accounts, blustery and ignorant official positions, and the inevitable (but inaccurate) body counts. We get periodic updates, each contradicting its predecessor and claiming to be “the truth”. We get long-winded speculations on motivations and responsibility, and a running scorecard on who is helped and hurt in the political aftermath, as if it was all some kind of game, another edition of Monday Night War. And as with so many reports of such inhumanity, we are led to heights of indignation and despair by the revelation, in hushed and horrified tones, that some of the victims were women and children. They killed women and children! The bastards! Women and children!

On August 24th, 1997, one of my oldest and dearest friends was killed in a motorcycle accident in the hills overlooking the Santa Clara Valley south of San Francisco.

It seems to me the most important thing we can teach our children, future drivers, riders, and walkers — and future employers and employees and leaders and teachers and neighbors, and future voters and politicians — is courtesy. We must all share the roads. We must all share in society. Your duty in driving, and in life, should be to minimize the chaos and disruption in your wake as you strive toward your destination. Your guiding principle should be: always assume the other guy is going to do something careless or stupid. If that means sometimes ceding your right-of-way — what have you lost but a bit of pride?

My name is Augustus Percival Lowell. Pert Lowell was my Grandfather.

A long time ago my grandmother came to live with us.