It’s cold outside and I kick myself for not bringing a jacket. Nearly December in the United States and I pack one flimsy pullover? What was I thinking?
When my Czech mom-in-law heard that I was on my way to the capital of Maryland she said I’d love it. She’s visited here before but it’s my first time.
I do like pretty towns, and this one has some really pretty parts, especially 350-year-old Historic Annapolis, perched on Chesapeake Bay, and embraced by the scenic Severn River.
Driving slowly along the narrow, tree-lined streets, I appreciatively take in the pre-Revolutionary architecture (OK, so I looked into a guide to know that) and, from the cozy warmth of my rented car, enjoy the splendor of the last-remaining fall colors splashed dazzlingly against the grey-green morning skies.
It’s so laid-back, peaceful. “Hardly anyone comes here out of season,” Gideon, the college student manning the front desk at my near-empty hotel told me earlier. There are people out, but not hordes. It’s Sunday, morning services are over, and in traditional form the restaurants are busy with lunch customers while others, muffled against the bay-blown wind, walk the waterfront. Mast forests explain why Annapolis is also known as America’s Sailing Capital. Outside the historic Market House, children (and their parents) are drawn irresistibly into a circle around the town’s large, lighted Christmas tree.
Careful to obey the state law to give way to the pedestrians - as signs repeatedly remind me - I drive gently to the end of Randall Street, where I stop before turning left onto King George. A group of smartly-uniformed young men comes out through the large gateway to my right. Glancing at my map, I nod in satisfaction at the prowess of my navigation, and glance affectionately at the “NeverLost” GPS system mounted on the dash. I’m at the main entrance to the world famous United States Naval Academy. This is my destination.
The midshipmen stroll by, and I gaze past them into the academy grounds. There, too, all is peaceful, quiet, almost asleep. Peaceful, peaceful. Peace - that’s why I’m here, right?
Hard to believe, then, that a demon-fest is planned for this place; that in just 48 hours, hell itself will be running amok here.
A Middle East “Peace” Conference is set to take place here tomorrow. Another one; another farce that will explode, taking who knows how many innocent lives with it when it goes.
Why Annapolis? What terrible sin did this little city commit to be singled out for eternal notoriety, like Oslo before it, and albeit to a lesser extent, like Madrid before Oslo?
I don’t know; I have not really heard why Condoleezza Rice, the Secretary of State who is propelling this whole process along, chose to have her influential photo-op right here. Why next door to Washington DC, where the initial and final meetings are scheduled to take place? Why not just confine the event to the American capital?
Diplomatic reasons, no doubt. Spiritual ones too. Jimmy Carter, the American president under whom the accursed “land-for-peace” saga really began, is a Naval Academy alumnus.
Turning around, I head back to into the town center and up Main Street. A ragged man with straggly beard sits on the ice-hard paving outside a bustling cafe, strumming a guitar and fixing burning eyes on me as I pass. Standing for a minute at the light on Church Circle, I have time to read an announcement tied to the bars of the fence around St Anne’s. This Catholic church is to be the venue for a panel discussion by Israeli and “Palestinian” peace (sic) organizations tomorrow (Monday) evening. They will be explaining why the Jews’ surrender of their national cradle will end the conflict in the Middle East and the world. Their presentations will doubtless include “reports” of atrocities committed by Israel’s governments and the IDF, and of the suffering and monstrous injustices inflicted on the “Palestinians.”
Afterwards – I suppose to underscore their peaceful intentions, their earnest hope that light will penetrate the dark evil that is Israel – they will walk in solemn, candlelight procession towards the gates of the academy.
Their display, along with the two scheduled demonstrations against the “peace process,” the conference itself, and anything else that happens in Annapolis in the next 48 hours, will be followed by journalists and their readers/viewers from Jerusalem to London, Amman to Baghdad, Cape Town to Sidney, Tehran to Beijing.
But what about right here? What about the ordinary Americans? What are they thinking about all of this? Not that I have had time to run a countrywide survey. But a few things struck me during my first 24 hours here:
The line of men waiting in the cold outside a nearby Best Buy at five-to-10 for the ongoing Thanksgiving Weekend sale of electronic items. According to media reports, 147 million people hit the stores, spending an average $347 per shopper, sadly down on forecast sales, says CNN, record breaking, contradicts Fox.
The focus of the day’s television news: Re-ignited Californian wildfires that have burned at least 50 houses “to a crisp”…the re-arrest of suspects in the disappearance of Natalee Holloway…a cruise ship that hit an iceberg in the Antarctic Ocean…the upcoming You Tube Republican Debate…and the disgusting song “Dear Mr President” on screen as I sit down to breakfast at my hotel – lyrics and images slamming President George W. Bush for his policies and the war in Iraq. According to US Politics Today editor Joel Rothstein who is traveling in Europe, “the song has captured the continent.”
And, then after Bush reiterates Sunday that he remains “personally committed to implementing my vision of two democratic states, Israel and Palestine, living side by side in peace and security, Geraldo Rivera of Fox News (the “Israel-friendly” TV network) says a loud amen.
“From the president’s lips to God’s ears.”
Somehow, I don’t think so.