Things went a bit quiet on the Donald-front here in Ireland after all the hullabaloo over the lewd tape and the final debate. It seemed that it was game, set, and match to Hillary and that Donald had gone off in a sulk. But yesterday, it seemed that maybe the silence was akin to that you associate with a toddler who is up to mischief. We suddenly started hearing about Florida and the gap closing and that maybe he’s bouncing back with a chance. All I could think was how appealing the Moon or, better still Mars, suddenly appeared, even if it meant being all cooped up, floating around and living on what I assume would be lots of pop-a-pill and sips of stale water.
I was over at the John F. Kennedy Arboretum in Co. Wexford recently to see the Autumn tints. The trees were magnificent and I couldn’t but think of how JFK was,
rightly or wrongly revered in Ireland. (I somehow don’t think Donald would ever get to the ‘r’ of ‘revered.’)
Meanwhile, Pope Francis’ latest ‘edict,’ or whatever you call it, on cremated ashes has really upset me in a roundabout way. I’m not into religion, as you know, but the Pope’s new ruling that cremated ashes must be kept intact in a consecrated place has led to a lot of discussion in Ireland about cremation itself. The tone of the radio discussions that I happened to hear were horrible and cremation was made to seem like a cheapy, impersonal, rushed process. Many of my loved ones have been cremated and I have to say that I have never, ever felt any sense of the kind of stuff I was hearing yesterday.
Pope Francis can say what he likes about cremated ashes, but I certainly hope that mine will be scattered in some wild place by the sea, as I have requested.
The thing about all this is that we’ve got to realise that our time on earth, no matter who we are ~ you, me, The Pope, The President of The United States ~ is very finite and basically like a heartbeat. But how we use that heartbeat does matter ~ as we are not islands and other people will be coming along after us.