Fourth river on the left

My home is in the mid-eastern region of the North American continent. It is about one hundred, sixty kilometers from the Atlantic and a little more than thirty kilometers from the great bay of this region – the Chesapeake. The land around me is covered by a lush, broad-leaf forest, and the Blue Ridge Mountains lie about sixty kilometers to the west.

From the ocean, you can reach my home by sailing into the bay and heading north along the western shore. The very first river you see will be the James, followed by the York River, then the Rappahannock. North of this is a river which leads to a city of magnificent marble edifices. This is my home.

Most of the people in this region are the descendants of English colonists (and those of their servants and slaves) who settled here hundreds of years ago, clearing the land of some of the forest and most of the aborigines. They became dairy farmers and tobacco growers for the most part, and some became fishermen. In the cities near the mouth of the bay, the people became shipbuilders and tool makers and cloth weavers. Here in the city where I live, the people are something else altogether.

The city is named in honor of the military general who led the colonists in a revolt against the English throne. It serves as the seat of government for the republic which grew from their victory. Some of the edifices were erected in their memory. The others were erected to perpetuate their ideals.

While the founders of the republic busied themselves with their newly-acquired freedom, slaves were busy with the building of some of the city’s most iconic structures – the presidential domicile among them. In just a few days, in just a few states, voters will determine who will live in that house for the next four years.

Recently, esteemed columnist George Will, apparently already having given up the Ghost on a Republican presidency, sought to preëmptively explain the demise of his party’s campaign by opining that the re-occupation of the White House by its current occupant would result solely from the occupant’s being black. Given that Mr. Will seems to have no known penchant for intentional absurdity, we are left with his publicly demonstrating that erudition is submerged in the wake of desperation. Worse for him, however, is that he might lack any ability to consider the possibility that the President could lose for being black. Shortly after Mr. Will’s piece made its rounds, the newspaper in which it appeared ran an article about the very real possibility that being black could shave three to five points off of the President’s chances of winning, or margin of victory.

A fitting end to a stormy campaign has been the real storm that has just wreaked havoc and claimed lives all along the eastern seaboard. Hurricane Sandy seems to have refocused minds, reminding us that we are all in this together. If we remember this as we head to the polls, perhaps we will be able to effectively deal with the devastation – both new and old, physical and political.

This city has weathered the real storm relatively well. Soon, we’ll see if the ship of state finds calmer waters or continues to sail through rough seas.