I felt the world turn Monday when my wife walked up to a tree, snapped a picture of it with her phone, googled the picture, and said, “It’s a Japanese maple.” Then she did the same to a Siberian pine. I’d never seen anyone do this before. I thought of all the Boy Scouts who earned merit badges by learning to identify trees and this gave them the self-confidence to go on to important careers in government and finance. I thought of people who majored in botany and impressed their friends at parties by saying, “That’s not an ordinary maple. It’s Japanese.” Now a fourth-grader can do it. Maybe even a second. I don’t mind being married to someone smarter than I. I’ve come to depend on it. It means I don’t need to read about the heat wave or the elections in France and the U.K.;she handles all that for me. I did however read about the contest in Nigeria between two men, Sanusi and Aminu, for the emirate of Kano, which I think suggests a way for America to get through the next five months with our democracy intact and the economy thriving. Nigeria is a democracy, a modern populous country, rich with oil, but it has maintained monarchs, men who have no official duties but who wield influence because they maintain the loyalty of millions. They sit on golden thrones under silk canopies, courtiers fan them, the faithful bow at their feet, and — this is the beautiful part — the emirs wear strips of cloth wound around their heads in a turban with a strip covering the mouth as a sign of dignified silence. The idea of silent leaders, objects of worshipful admiration who do not speak and thereby gain even greater loyalty, is monarchy in its purest form and it’s what is missing in our Constitution. In Nigeria, an emirship is not a hereditary position: emirs are chosen by kingmakers. And in America, this would be the media along with our three former emirs, Obama, Clinton, and Bush, and for the good of the country, they could agree on this by next Friday: Donald and Joseph will be enthroned, fanned, worshipped, paraded under beautiful parasols, and not another word will come out of their mouths. The Trumpian multitudes will face off against the Bidensians, elaborate insults will be exchanged, threats, flags will wave, and each side will be armed with sticks, only sticks, guns will be reserved for the armed forces, meanwhile the government will be run, as it is run today and has been run for ages, by anonymous educated technocrats. America has fallen prey to the romantic myth of the President. Democrats idealized Kennedy and Obama, Republicans revered Reagan, but national life is too fractured and diverse for us to be governed by mythology. California is burning and sliding into the sea, the Mississippi is flooding, progressive teachers are instructing our third-graders in Marxism, Venezuelan voting machines have corrupted the elections, the 18-second pitching clock has destroyed baseball and turned the country toward soccer and pickleball, working-from-home has turned downtowns to deserts, the mystery of Taylor Swift has divided generations, streaming video has killed the American novel, and it’s time to set the Constitution aside and lock the three former emirs along with the Yale faculty and the Southern Baptist Convention — lock them into Grand Central Station with only PB&J sandwiches and Coke until they come up with a new form of government that incorporates monarchy into democracy. Donald and Joseph, silent, led through the streets, carried in majesty on the shoulders of their adherents, carrying on this campaign for years to come, the brash bully boy and the hesitant gramps, silk over their mouths, meanwhile capable men and women manage diplomacy, national defense, repair the roads, control air traffic, deliver the mail, finance health care and education, and put on the fireworks shows. Last Thursday evening, the Fourth, I sat under the Japanese maple on our terrace in New York City and saw a tremendous display from lower Manhattan, great booming arcs and domes and crowns of sparkling lights that went on and on for almost an hour. The country needs more of this, and with two rival emirs, each could strive to out-firework the other. More pageantry, more parades, flags, bunting, marching bands with majorettes. Make America Great Again versus Make America Caring Again, MAGA vs. MACA. I own a Siberian pine. I know what I’m talking about. Garrison Keillor and A Prairie Home Companion return home to the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul, MN.SIGN UP FOR A LIVESTREAM OF THE JULY 13th, 7:30 p.m. show (available July 13 - 15)You’re on the free list for Garrison Keillor and Friends newsletter and Garrison Keillor’s Podcast. For the full experience, become a paying subscriber and receive The Back Room newsletter, which includes monologues, photos, archived articles, videos, and much more, including a discount at our store on the website. Questions: admin@garrisonkeillor.com |