Hiking in Gettysburg – Pence’s memoir – Trump’s announcement to run in 2024 – Effects of the pandemic on daily social life – Evening statistics
Yesterday I went with the Vigorous Hikers to Gettysburg. It was a somewhat overcast day, and the forecast of rain in the afternoon caused us to make the hike slightly shorter than our usual amount (still, it came out to about 13½ miles, which is not bad). It is undeniably a field of monuments: practically every regiment that participated in the battle put up a memorial statue there. I was curious to see whether I could use the hike for either Wanderbirds or Capital Hiking, but I’m afraid it’s not feasible. Gettysburg, unlike Antietam or Manassas, is geared towards the car driver, and any extensive hike there involves a good deal of road-walking. On a weekday, especially in the off-season, there is not much traffic to contend with; but on any weekend, even in the dead of winter, the amount of cars to dodge would make hiking there a torment. There are some trails along the outskirts of the battlefield, notably on Big Roundtop, a peak to the south of the battlefield (but the term “peak” is relative – the ascent to the top is barely 250 feet), but for the most part one must trod pavement to see the area.
Afterwards a few of us went to the cemetery where Union soldiers who had fallen on the battlefield were hastily interred and we lingered at the site where Lincoln delivered his famed Gettysburg address. From there we passed through the town of Gettysburg itself. During my first visit there, many years ago, it had appeared shabby and rundown. I am happy to say that that is no longer the case; it has a thriving, prosperous air, and the main city square of the historic district is well worth seeing in its own right, featuring as it does many buildings replete with both historic and architectural interest, including the home where Lincoln stayed the night before he delivered his oration.
It was a bit of a letdown, returning from the scene of perhaps the most famous speech of our greatest president, to be regaled with news of one of his decidedly lesser successors.
“Now, my mother never bothered about bringing me up. She just saw to it that I got whacked at decent intervals and was taught the difference between right and wrong; there is some difference, you know, but I’ve forgotten what it is.”
No, the speaker is not Mike Pence in his recent memoir “So Help Me God”; the quotation comes from a story (“Clovis on Parental Responsibilities”) by Saki. But it would not be out of place in that first-named publication, for Pence’s disclosures are notably disingenuous. Many of his anecdotes certainly have the ring of truth – such as the one that relates how, on January 1, 2021, he received a virulent tongue-lashing from Donald Trump excoriating the latter’s refusal to prevent Congress from ratifying Biden’s victory. But the implication that this episode was Pence’s first intimation of how determined Trump was to subvert the election and that in particular he wanted Pence to be the instrument of his doing so – which cannot possibly be the case. Trump’s tirade, after all, did not emerge from a vacuum. His conduct during his entire four years of office has provided a consistent pattern of deceit, rage, abuse, and treachery. But Pence never condemns Trump in so many words and never denounces Trump’s orchestration of the events of January 6th for what they are: an act of brazen, unmitigated sedition.
Such spinelessness on his part is all the more troubling for Pence being a man of a far different caliber than, for example, Steve Bannion or Michael Flynn. He is not a scheming opportunist and he is not particularly greedy for wealth. He sincerely believes in his faith and had rigorously adhered to its statutes in his own private life. During the storming of the Capitol he behaved with admirable courage and decision, to the extent of defying his Secret Service detail and insisting that the process of ratification be completed even in the face of assault and bloodshed. Yet, although he himself was threatened with mob violence from Trump’s supporters carrying rope and noose and shouting “Hang Mike Pence!”, he still refuses to condemn Trump explicitly; he is much more severe upon Trump’s critics than upon Trump himself. Fancy an early Christian devising excuses for the excesses of the Roman Emperor Caligula, and you will get some idea of the effect of Pence’s remarks about Trump. Incidentally, with his harsh stream of invective, continual falsehoods, unbridled lusts, and sadistic nature, Trump bears a marked resemblance to that last-named personage, to an extent as to make one whether Trump is channeling the latter’s spirit.
Last night Trump announced his intention to run for Presidential again in 2024, which should come a s a surprise to no one. The Republican Party has reacted notably less enthusiastically to his candidacy than it did in 2020. They know very well that the disappointments they endured in the midterm elections – far from being the “red wave” they anticipated, they wound up with only a narrow majority in the House of Representatives and actually lost a seat in the Senate – are in a large measure due to him. Several Republican governors – DeSantis, Kemp, and Youngkin in particular – have taken pains to distance themselves from him and have proved that they can do very well without his support. Youngkin, indeed, has clearly looked upon Trump as a liability from the beginning and took vigorous measures to prevent him from interfering in the Virginia gubernatorial contest. For that matter, even Trump’s own daughter has disassociated herself from the ongoing campaign, publicly announcing her retirement from political life.
Various people have, like me, been documenting how their daily habits have changed since the advent of the pandemic. Some are unsurprising: more people are staying indoors more, traveling less, avoiding physical contact (such as hand-shaking), spending more time watching movies online, wearing face masks in public places, etc. But there are disquieting reactions as well: wearing less makeup, dressing less fashionably (one woman said that she now no longer wears a bra unless she “absolutely has to”), and in general, taking less care about one’s appearance; narrowing down of social circles; increased feelings of claustrophobia when being among crowds. Regular attendance of religious services declined severely during the early months of the pandemic – understandingly, when large gatherings of people in enclosed areas was explicitly forbidden. They are now gradually recovering, but most churches average above 50% of their pre-pandemic attendance but below 90%. Just over a quarter of churches (26%) say that their attendance is more than 50% but less than 70%, while 31% report a congregation of 70% to less than 90% what it was prior to the pandemic. Clearly it will take some time to repair all of the social disruption that the pandemic has caused – may continue to cause, indeed, if we see another upsurge this coming winter.
Today’s statistics as of 8:00 PM – # of cases worldwide: 641,352,690; # of deaths worldwide: 6,619,287; # of cases U.S.: 100,013,831; # of deaths; U.S.: 1,100, 979.