Unborn on the Fourth of July
I have mixed feelings about the 4th of July this year, to say the least.
This is a big anniversary for my home country — they are calling it the “semiquincentennial,” which I eventually figured out means “half of 500.” Which is a weird way to measure time, but the Romans were like that.
Speaking of which, America feels awfully Roman lately, don’t you think? Gladiators brawling on the White House lawn, decadent oligarchs running roughshod over the land…. And how about those orgies where toga-clad senators stuff themselves with the finest meats and cheeses, gorging and vomiting, gorging and vomiting, stopping only to bugger pretty young boys?
OK that last bit hasn’t happened yet. But is it really that far off?
Today finds me in Edgewood, WA awaiting the birth of my second grandson. The fact that I now have grandchildren after never having children is a continual source of amazement and confusion, but in a good way.
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