By David Fortier
Come Sunday morning I still did not have the words for what happened on Wednesday. They, the words, will come eventually, but in the meantime, I am listening and thinking and reading and listening some more.
For instance, on Saturday, I read a slender volume, A Living Bill of Rights, by William O. Douglas, a late Supreme Court justice, writing in 1961 in the beginning of the civil rights movement.
Douglas’ point, and one that is generally accepted today—he was not breaking any new ground here–, was that the states on the verge of ratifying the Constitution the powers of the federal government would be restricted. Still valid, and an idea that any serious journalist and citizen grasps.
However, this time around, my thought, while taking this in, and without irony, was this: what happens when citizens over-reach and threaten their government. Does government need its own bill of rights, beginning with something along the lines that citizens need to understand how their government works before taking to the streets, literally, with pitchforks and attacking the seat of our democracy?
Douglas writes, “Our revolution was not directed solely against a distant English monarch. In our Constitution we embodied a continuing determination to live and to govern ourselves free of domestic as well as foreign tyrants.
“For that reason the Constitution is not a dusty, obsolete historical document. It is the heart of our life as a nation—even if we sometimes take it as much for granted as the air we breathe.”
I get it.
Then, he goes on to say, “It is a constant reminder of George Washington’s statement, ‘Government is like fire—a dangerous servant—a fearful master,’” which only led me to more irony, if you replace “government” with “ill-informed citizens, no matter how well-intentioned,” well, you get the idea.
And no, this is not a Black Lives Matter protest gone awry. Let me qualify, what happened at the Capitol is on a different level entirely because, well, if you get it, great, if not, well, I am still trying to find the words, and listening and reading and wondering about it all.
And, of course, TBE exists to continue the discussion, to ensure that we, here in Bristol, attend to issues that will inform us on the local level that of our own obligations to foster a living, breathing American democracy that operates under the Constitution and not against it.
In the meantime, life goes on.
The Christmas tree came down—we have always waited until the Feast of the Three Kings for this. Sometimes we succeed in meeting this goal, other times, not. We have had trees up through the end of January.
(Our wreath rule is that it must come down by Ash Wednesday.)
This year Mary and I waited for Saturday and dragged our lery dry, unusually dry, tree to the curb, leaving bits of branches and pine needles all along the way.
Mary watered the tree, same as always, but it didn’t soak up much of the water. We have decided that this condition was because we left the tree outdoors for a few days, and when we brought it in, neglected to loop off an inch or two of the trunk. Cutting off a bit of the trunk, we have heard, allows a tree to drink up better than not looping some of it off.
The numbers of people contracting COVID-19 continue to rise, and a new strain, more contagious that the previous one, has reached us here in Connecticut.
And, sadly, one of my brothers is in the hospital, having been intubated, not for COVID, but from that other scourge that ravages our communities—fentanyl. He lies in bed connected to a ventilator, people praying for him to recover, hoping that he will.
We wait.
“Come Sunday morning” is intended to be a weekly review, a recounting of the past week and an anticipation of week to come. Among its features will be reviews of old and new books, sharing of favorite podcasts, some family news, Bristol events and happenings, and issues surrounding education, work and community journalism.