Today we find ourselves focusing on four presidents.
Barack Obama. We’re counting the days until he takes over, hoping his administration will create tikun olam, heal, and repair all that’s in need, a tall order. His story, eloquence, and grace repeatedly inspire tears of disbelief and awe.
John F. Kennedy. Americans don’t need the date to recall an event we’ve never forgotten, the horrific tragedy in Dallas, a loss all Americans experienced as emotionally as if this president had been a beloved family member. Kennedy’s smile warmed the country; his death had us weeping as one.
Bill Clinton. Still a presence, perhaps not as prominently as the others, but a factor because of Hillary. If tears were shed, it was for what he did and for what he might have done.
George W. Bush. We’re eager to forget him, but, sadly, unable to. He makes this day, like so many others before it, feel like the morning after. We ask, “How did this happen? What could I have been thinking? I can’t wait for him to leave.” Tears? For pretty much everything he’s done.
