Thursday, February 26, 2026

A Mockery

Today's State of the Union Address makes a mockery of responsible governance and accountability. The drafters of Article Two of the Constitution, which deals with the Presidency -- the who, what and how of him (so far) and how he is to be held accountable, probably were thinking along the lines of town halls and annual meetings. 

The Constitution reads, Article Two, Section 3,"he shall from time to time give to the Congress information on the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient; . . .." 

George Washington delivered the first such "information" on January 8th, 1790, in the Federal Hall in New York City. (Congress met in New York for a year, then in Philadelphia while awaiting a new Capitol in the Federal District of Columbia.) President Washington's address of 1,089 words took about 10 minutes to deliver. 

Washington had four matters to "recommend to their Consideration": a standing army; a national University; support for and development of manufactures (by which he threw his full endorsement to Hamilton's vision of America as against Jefferson's America made up of self-sufficient farmers and plantation owners,) and -- of course -- immigration. 

Washington's concern about immigration was how to promote it and to link it with programs to integrate immigrants into their new country, something my Grandfather Halley Waller became renowned for 100 years later, as developer of the YMCA's Americanization Programs.

Isn't it interesting: 200 years, the same themes -- national defense, education, industrial development, and immigration. Whatever . . ..

Jefferson was not so hot a public speaker, so he submitted his annual report on the State of the Union in  writing. That became the precedent all the way up to Woodrow Wilson, who again delivered orally, in person what was then called The Annual Message. 

Mass media broadcasting gave an irresistible opportunity to shift from reporting to selling, to shift from Congress as audience to public as audience. Coolidge, who had so little to say, was first to use radio to say it to the nation in 1923. Television was even more irresistible; Truman latched onto it for his address in 1947 and that's when the Annual Message was reframed as The State of the Union Address.

And who turned it into a show? Why, Ronald Reagan, of course, in 1982. He called out a heroic Lenny Skutnik to stand in the gallery and be duly honored; such now de rigeur elements of the evening are called "skutniks" by the show's writers and producers. 

From 1982, year by year, in the hands of smooth-talker Clinton, good ol'boy Bush, and the Don, the state of the Union Address has become a performance, more show and less report, fewer recommendations for consideration. It is now a mockery of responsible governance.

What to do about it? I am going to send this to Adam Smith, my representative, and to my Senators Patty Murray and Maria Cantwell. And I will not tune in again until there is some indicator that changes are being made. 

This year's State of the Union Address was important for what was not addressed: an immanent and illegal attack on a sovereign nation; a dangerous build up of debt -- corporate, personal, and national; continual deficit spending; voter suppression; irresponsible trade policies; unaffordable child care; the needs of the unhoused; and growing inequities in household incomes and wealth. 

All politics have performative elements, but when performance outweighs substance, politicians beware. The public will see through empty show soon enough, and demand substance once again. Remember "Where's the beef?" ?

 

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

Have I the Strength? Have I Time? Have I the Wit?

Do not read this as an end-game announcement. Nor as s surrender to self-pity. I merely intend to describe what the last couple of months have been like – just so you know, as Ann so often says. I guess the more telling question is why do I want you to know? Well, whatever, I do.

Each cervical vertebrae, yeh, in the neck, has an opening called a foramen between itself and the next. Through these foramina (isn't that a lovely word?) flow lubricants, pass the spinal nerves carrying  messages to and from elsewhere in the body, activating various muscles, and cushioning the discs that pad the bones.

And when those foramina (I love new words!) get inflamed and squeezed shut all hell breaks loose. And that’s been my story of the last two months: severe neck pain and restricted range of rotation of the head (leading to my having given up the car keys;) sharp pain in the rib cage, fiery torso, painful hip, a constant cramp in the butt, a tendency to walk haltingly and to stoop. To straighten up and to walk briskly, even with my cane, are acts of will as Ann regularly reminds me.

And my time (and Ann’s since she must drive) has been dominated by a parade of appointments: multiple CT-scans, multiple MRI’s, Dr. consultations, cardiac-watch on anti-coagulant levels and blood density, and on and on. Tomorrow: a Spect scan. Never heard of it? Neither had I.

Earlier this week I acknowledged to my Hamilton class President and the college alumni office the troubles I have been having fulfilling my responsibilities as class secretary. I resigned that role: simplification.

I now will focus on two projects (plus daily journaling, from which this is derived): seeing Making Music with My Friends through to publication and Constantine’s Flame to installation, I hope at Horizon House.

Have I strength to wrestle stone? Have I time to finish the manuscript? Have I wit to be interesting in both formats? Well, that's my intent -- to make time, to build strength, and to nourish the wit. Cheer me on. I need your energy. 

 

PS At one place in this piece I place punctuation inside a parenthesis; in another, outside the parenthesis. The hell with it; just hedge the bet.