Letters

It came first, a cool breeze lifting the tendrils of the anchorwoman’s helmet of hair. Then the newspapers began to ruffle. Trumpets began to sound. There followed the rush of a mighty wind clearing the sky, lifting the dense, smeared air; flinging the filthy, miasmic word pollution hither and yon.

And then a beautiful clear light. “Oh, this is a day such as will hearten my grandchildren and their grandchildren in the retelling,” many whispered as they embraced each other in happy amazement.

The citizens knew they would always remember just what they were doing at the moment that clarifying, forceful wind swept over the land. The clear light and the bracing wind began to free them from the burden of what they dared not admit had overtaken them.

Then the Jacketless-Jordanus who had so thought to shame and frighten the populace jumped down from his perch and scampered away, and the world saw that he was only 2 feet tall! In wonder, they realized it was the TV head shots that made him appear full size. And it was the same with the rest of the unruly pack of the mini-brained large-jaws who quickly teetered away.

Then the wind, like a surgeon’s knife, cut the loincloth from the Devinunes ape and bared his corruption, leaving him naked and shivering in Ukraine.

What was the source of this clarity? The beautiful light that followed the forceful wind that cleansed the land? The clarion summons of the trumpets to embrace logic? The promenade of fact following fact?

It came, at last, as St. Fiona of the Hill strode into the Palace of Congress to speak the truth: Her dignity and the virtue of her honesty (not to mention intelligence) emblazoned across her forehead. And while the stake was being readied to burn her, the miracle was that it could not be lit. She was, in the end, pure spirit — and she was lit from within with that spirit, the spirit of an earlier, truer America.

The powerful, clarifying wind that followed her was simply the truth — only that. Just the weapon to destroy the thick web of debased political discourse, evasions, aspersions, ambiguities, omissions, veiled threats, distorted facts, usurpations of reality, rank self-interest, contemptuous diatribes and the treasonous lies she came to combat.

St. Fiona of the Hill — #MetruthFiona. Hers is the spirit that recognized a moral imperative and obeyed it; that saw danger and warned of it; that took an oath to the Constitution of the country she loved and honored it. The light she shed was blinding.

Do you remember what you were doing when she was testifying?

Frances Genovese

Southampton