a different man
altogether than one who
began the journey
In his 1st book, The Coming Fury, of his three book centennial history of the United States Civil War, Bruce Catton wrote about Abraham Lincoln and Robert E. Lee:
In a singular way, Lee began his journey more in the mood of Lincoln than in the mood of Davis. Davis had fewer doubts than either of the others.
He knew, broadly, what he was supposed to do, and he knew how to set about it, and he neither knew nor cared what it might cost him.
Lincoln and Lee took more doubts with them — doubts not only about the future but about the precise parts they themselves might have to play.
Each man would say things, in the early stages of this journey, that he would not have said later.
Each man would find the dimensions of the crisis enlarging as he came closer to it, his own probable role growing as the crisis grew; and each man would grow with the crisis itself, shaped by it but at the same time giving shape to it, becoming finally larger than life-size, a different man altogether than the one who began the journey.
The capacity to grow in office is a trait long discussed of American Presidents after leaving office.
Did they grow into the office or … did they fail?
Like so much of accepted historical practices, this question seems to have gone out the window.
What did it all matter if it came to this?
Being President of the United States used to mean something here at home and around the world.
The current administration has lowered the expectations of the office to the level of the Cook County Sheriff as described by Mike Royko in his biography, Boss, of Chicago Mayor Richard Daley when he wrote:
The Cook County Sheriff’s Department was a notorious money pot.
The sheriff’s police were supposed to patrol the roads and residential areas in the sizable unincorporated parts of the suburbs and were empowered to enter any town if local police weren’t doing their job.
They spent most of their time, however, shaking down motorists and making collections at suburban bars and brothels.
Since a sheriff couldn’t succeed himself, most of them got in, got it, and got out.
Few left without being the subject of scandal.
Catton would add of Lincoln and Lee, “Each man would find the dimensions of the crisis enlarging as he came closer to it, his own probable role growing as the crisis grew; and each man would grow with the crisis itself, shaped by it but at the same time giving shape to it, becoming finally larger than life-size, a different man altogether than the one who began the journey.”
The current man if office will also be different.
A lot richer for one thing.
He has got in.
He is getting it.
He will get out … someday.
Different?
Doubt it.
But how about us?
We certainly will be different than we were when we started this journey.
No Haiku For You 