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| A TALE OF TIME | |
| December 30, 1999 |
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Essayist Richard Rodriguez looks at the unseen story behind the new year. |
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RICHARD RODRIGUEZ: For many months now, the travel industry
has tried to stir in us a garish anxiety: Where should we go for New Year's
Eve? Should we fly to Jerusalem or to Bali?; should we stand with the
mob in Times Square or on the Washington Mall? Should we engage a private
jet to see the dawn at over Australia?
The frenzied desire to position onesself at this a moment of history, only reminds me that we human beings do not easily live in history. We exist more immediately, more intimately within the Tuesdays and Thursdays of our lives. |
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| An invisible spectacle | ||||||||||||||||||||
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It was the business of emperors and popes to organize the known world by establishing calendars. It remains the task of parents to note doctors' appointments on the kitchen calendar.
In recent months, we have heard from the merchandisers and hustlers with their quickie lists -- the century's hundred best short stories or hundred most important movies. Or Time magazine summarizes our century with a magazine cover.
But, this terrible century's great lesson is that one cannot be oblivious of history. For history, unbidden, often prowled the century's wet streets late at night. And sometimes, history banged on the door, and forced itself in. |
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| The century's great lesson | ||||||||||||||||||||
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RICHARD RODRIGUEZ: America sent its young men to fight in history's battles. They fought bravely and well. And though they came very close to seeing the face of history, many soldiers returned famished, they said -- not for a hero's parade of tape and confetti--but famished for the mundane: a hot dog or the barefoot pleasure of washing the car on Saturday morning.
In my own Catholic Church, a feast day comes with great ceremony, after weeks of preparing. But then it passes. Finally, there is more to learn from taking down the tree after Christmas than from putting it up. For what remains, week after week, is what my ancient Church calls "ordinary time." We live most of lives in ordinary time. Tuesdays and Thursdays. People ride the bus, a child learns how to swim, a woman waters her roses, two friends laugh at a joke--all within in ordinary time.
Most of us will begin the new century, not at midnight, but several weeks after, when we write a check and catch ourselves writing the wrong year. And then we will know, in an instant, that we are standing in a new era, and nothing has changed. And maybe everything is different, if only there were a hillside high enough to let us view history. I'm Richard Rodriguez. |
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