The past weekend and its relatively pleasant weather here on the plains provided plenty of diversions from dreary politics, but of course there was no avoiding it entirely. Still, we found hope some for personal refuge from it all.
After a good morning of sleep and a lazy afternoon of slothfulness the Saturday evening entailed a much needed party at the Fabulous Tahitian Room, located in a dear old friend’s refurbished-in-Tiki-Bar-style barn well south of Wichita and just north of the hilariously small town of Peck, and everyone in attendance were dear old friends. They’re all longtime Republicans, one of the many things we have in common, but a couple of us were sticking to our old-time free-trade guns and another couple were trying to defend President Donald Trump’s protectionism, and despite all our convivial years of friendship it occasionally got a bit heated. We wandered off into more personal topics, and found it more interesting and gratifying. The middle-school aged son of some old friends was there with with his dad, and we’ve much enjoyed a friendship with him his whole life, and we were pleased to catch up with him again and find out that he’s still coming along nicely. His mother is a friend of the wife of the former local congressman who has recently become head of the Central Intelligence Agency, and the former congressman and current CIA head’s wife adores him as much as we do and had arranged for him to get a special tour of the White House a couple of years ago, and we kidded him about how how he had now an “in” at the CIA. In the ensuing political arguments the kid was the only other one at the bar who knew what the “L” in “ISIL” stood for and what the Sykes-Picot Agreement had to with the current Middle Eastern situation, and despite his slightly too enthusiastic support for Trump that gave us hope.
A happily long-married couple who were friends of ours even before that started were rather vehemently arguing for Trump’s protectionism, although we suspect they wouldn’t have been nearly so enthusiastic about President Bernie Sanders’ protectionism, but after all that they also caught us up on their daughter, whom we’ve also adored since the day she was born. She’s getting to married another woman soon, and the romance has apparently been quite complicated, and they both sort of shrugged as they talked about the honeymoon they’d agreed to pay for, and the kidding about it at a small party of longtime Republican old friends was friendly and infused with best wishes, and at this point we wouldn’t be surprised if that crazy mixed-up kid we’ve always adored winds up voting for Trump’s re-election.
We still managed to find ourselves in the pews of of our low Christian church on the westside where we worship Sunday mornings, and the hymns and the Holy Communion and a sermon straight from the Gospel of John were a profound diversion from more inconsequential matters. The sermon referred to Pontius Pilate’s famous query, “What is truth?,” and our very sound preacher linked this to the “post-truth” era of the millennial generation, but we couldn’t help thinking it how it was also echoed by the “alternative facts” of the last Baby Boomer president.
A nice nap followed, and then a rousing performance by the Wichita Symphony Orchestra, with tickets from a friend of the folks’. There was some nice Handel and Bach in the first set, and the rest was a fabulous rendition of Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” featuring the very talented and utterly charming guest soloist Rachel Barton Pine on violin, and we left with a happy sense that the seasons will come and go according to God’s plan until its purpose has been fulfilled, Trump and all those liberals notwithstanding.
Not long after that there was a meeting way over on the east side with the local media’s satirical song-and-skit revue we’ve long been involved with, so there was no avoiding politics there, but there was beer and wine and pizza and plenty of intriguing personal talk and for the most part it all went well. There was a general agreement that there’s no avoiding Trump in a satirical revue, but that there are also more local and apolitical topics to be burlesqued, and we expect that it will also be worked out in some way or another. Today is Monday, though, so there’s no telling what might happen.
— Bud Norman