October 9, 2023
The staccato pace of Dublin and London raised our spirits, the streets jammed with buses and taxis; restaurants, bars, and shops packed. Working people and students stride past 18th century architecture and skyscrapers. Cross-country trains arrive and depart day and night.
We came home to the Republicans’ war over “vacating” the speaker’s chair, following their attempt to paralyze the government, abandon American pledges to Ukraine, and regurgitate their love for Trump, who wants the outgoing Chairman of the Joint Chiefs executed.
Midway through our trip Conservative U.K. Prime Minister Rishi Sunak gave a speech to unveil his plan for Britain to achieve “net zero” in greenhouse gas emissions. He said, in part:
“I know the fundamentals of our great country are solid and timeless. Its people are its greatest strength. Their hopes and genius are what propel us forward, not Government. … But what I have concluded … is that for too many, there remains a nagging sense that the path we’re on isn’t quite what we hoped for, and that no one seems to have the courage to say so. … we do not have to be powerless … Our destiny can be of our own choosing. But only if we change the way our politics works. …
“Can we be brave in the decisions we make, even if there is a political cost? And can we put the long-term interests of our country before the short-term political needs of the moment? The real choice … is do we really want to change our country and build a better future for our children … I have made my decision: we are going to change.”
Sunak then announced he was canceling most of a big rail project called HS2, priced at 106 billion pounds ($128.4 billion), and plowing the savings into Network North, a system of roads, rail, and bus lines across the country’s midsection. So the U.K. creates authentic public policy, and continues stalwartly to help Ukraine defend itself from the Russian killers.
Now, in downtown Greenville, Falls Park glows green in bright sunlight along the Reedy River. Autumn is much like summer in northwestern South Carolina, minus the humidity. Dublin’s and London’s chilly gray skies seem like a faraway dream. The snail’s pace of this Southern suburb is either serene and comforting or remote and anesthetizing. It’s what we chose, where we are, for now.
My younger brother stopped in on his trip from Delaware to Florida. We walked through Falls Park. Old times came up, as they always do among brothers with thinning hair. We talked about the usual, family, health, future plans. We mentioned this neighbor or classmate or that one from the old neighborhood. He had the memories. I mostly shook my head.
The subject of cemeteries came up. He has a plot in Jersey, where our parents and brother are buried. We recalled an aunt’s funeral, years ago, far out on Long Island, New York. We drove from Virginia in a snowstorm, determined to be present. Seven cousins showed up, we stood for the service in our dark overcoats on frozen ground. Our last internment, on Sandy’s side, was in Tennessee last June. The subject is out there.
The subtheme is travel. He was heading to the Gulf Coast, eight or so hours down I-85 to I-75 most of the way. He’ll cut across to the Atlantic side and take I-95 home. We’ve done the trip in reverse, from the Gulf across the Florida midstate boondocks to the interstate, then north.
It’s just as easy, maybe easier, to go west. From Atlanta I-20 runs through Birmingham and Tuscaloosa. It’s then a straight shot across Mississippi and Louisiana, through Shreveport into Texas, Marshall, Kilgore, Dallas-Fort Worth, and across the oil country, Midland, Odessa, to the intersection with I-10 in the middle of nowhere. Then El Paso, skirting the Rio Grande, and more empty country to Tucson. We did that once and camped out in Fort Stockton.
This is how to see the richness of the country. The culture, the essence of a place opens. Grasp the knowable chords of life, appreciate and learn from them. Then move on. Still, Tucson is a long way. The South has lessons.
In 2017 I took two of our girls to Sylacauga, Ala., not far from the Georgia state line and a few small towns off I-20 for a running event. The town, once known for production of marble, is at the far southwestern end of the Blue Ridge. The notable landmark is Mount Cheaha, Alabama’s highest point at something like 2,400 feet, humble by Blue Ridge standards.
We explored the place, walked the downtown and the rest of it. The big business was a Wal-Mart. The demarcations of segregation showed in the layout of the streets and neighborhoods. All that is over, I thought at the time. The legacy is our political nightmare.
Across the next state line is Meridian, Miss., a modest city with a lively downtown. I once visited the Naval Air Station there. We passed through five years ago, walked Main Street and stopped in Weidmann’s, the famous local restaurant. We looked at the little museum devoted to Meridian’s role in giving birth to country music and its local hero, Jimmy Rodgers, who the city calls the “Father of Country Music.” I lived for years in Nashville but never knew that.
More history can be dredged. Meridian is the hometown of James Chaney, one of the three civil rights workers murdered by the Ku Klux Klan in Philadelphia, Miss., about 40 miles north, in June 1964. In 1966 eighteen men were put on trial in Meridian, not for murder but for conspiracy to violate the victims’ civil rights. Seven were convicted.
You can explore these places, scenes of nightmares, and many others, a far galaxy from London or Dublin. Yet Sunak’s words may yet resound: “solid and timeless … hope and genius.” Some shade of truth, the truth of humanity, emerges and resonates. It is common to Greenville, Meridian, London, Dublin. Common to all.
On the Road 