I guess the trip came full circle at some point outside Dayton. Maybe some of you remember when the states of Ohio and North Carolina were beefing over which one had the true claim to calling itself the birthplace of aviation, some version of which is emblazoned on each state’s license plates. Ohio was home to the Wright brothers, and North Carolina was where they made their first flights. I believe they settled on splitting hairs; Ohio claimed “birthplace of aviation,” while North Carolina uses “First in Flight.” Both more or less accurate. (Wilbur Wright was born in Indiana, although the family moved to Ohio in his youth.)
And I drove through both.
My N.C. friends, both longtime Ohioans relocated to the Outer Banks, believe North Carolina should get the crown. Don’t tell that to Dayton, which has slapped the Wright name on everything, including the Air Force base there. As a daughter of Columbus, I don’t have a dog in the fight, having learned that my hometown’s namesake is now considered a Bad Man and there’s a good chance the Wright Brothers will be revealed as similar Bad Men and the circus will move on to what should replace both.
Elsewhere on the trip, I found another reason to despise Donald Trump when I was looking at the Obama portraits in Atlanta. Of course I wondered who would get the Trump presidential portrait commission, or if there would even be one. From the instructional panels at the exhibit, I gathered this is a bit of business reserved for the last part of the chief executive’s final term, and Trump thinks he was illegally robbed of one. So agreeing to sit for one would mean admitting his presidency was over. Although as vain as he is, it’s hard to believe he would skip it.
A quick Google reveals the truth as of a year ago: Trump “has already begun participating in the customary process so his official portrait can eventually hang alongside his predecessors, according to an aide and others familiar with the discussions.” Who will the lucky artist be? Please let it be Jon McNaughton, she prayed fervently; let the finished canvas include an eagle, a flag, another flag, a bomb, a cross, Jesus and the Deutschbank logo. And something gold. Gotta have some gold in there.
Now here we are, on the doorstep of March, Lent and spring now less than a month away. Even Ramadan is pretty close, and it’s always moving around the calendar.) A lovely day is in progress outside my window, and I should probably get out in it, now that I’ve cleaned my bathroom and otherwise caught up with stupid housework. Ukraine remains in crisis, but is showing a great deal of pluck in their resistance. Republicans, on the other hands, are twisting in the wind. It’s like watching someone try to jerk off Tucker Carlson with one hand and the entire staff of the National Review with the other. Entertaining, in a grim kinda way.