Well, we are home, and my wife seems fine. She is upset that we cut our trip to Paris short, but I was adamant. When your eighty-four year old wife with MS is taken to the emergency room, you come home to your own doctor, no matter how good she feels. That is just common sense.
After we boarded the airplane at Charles de Gaulle airport, we sat for an hour and a half while mechanics looked for, found, and installed a door handle to replace one on our plane that wasn't working properly. Many of the passengers were irritated, but with my new-found wisdom, I was not. Suppose, I thought to myself, the pilot had said, "It is just a door handle, for heaven's sake," and had taken off on time. And suppose we had crash-landed and the inability to open a door condemned ten passengers to a fiery death. I am old enough to consider it a miracle that I can leave Paris at 10:45 a.m. and arrive in Raleigh-Durham airport eight and a half hours later. I can wait another ninety minutes to be certain everything on the plane works, even the coffee maker.
While I was away, I see that the Trump Administration started to unravel. Now is the time for us to maintain maximum pressure, especially in every single by-election, from House of Representatives to local school board. Once I have unpacked, restocked the refrigerator, and gotten my sleep turned around, I shall have some things to say about what is happening politically.
There is something spiritually refreshing about not having to make excuses for a Democratic Administration that is only fitfully admirable.