A Sunday

I still remember the shock on a Sunday afternoon when Joan Garrett and I sat in a Broadway theatre watching The Wizard of Oz, and the mysterious Wizard was unveiled.

Aunt Helen had brought Joan, my best friend and I to the famed theatre to view the heavily publicized film.

While the entire production was memorable, the moment that long lingered (despite Judy Garland’s rendition of ”Over the Rainbow”) was the Wizard’s deceit.

Obviously, that was ever so long ago. Gentle Aunt Helen left our world quietly twenty years ago, and Joan is now a resident in Florida.

However, I no longer wonder why I remember that afternoon. I know it is because of my current disenchantment with the current political scene and all in the crowded arena.

The rage between both parties has escalated to a level that breeds an unwelcome cynicism.

I believe it is always unproductive to remove the veneer of courtesy and/or civilized dialogue.

In my humble opinion that immediately reflects badly on both participants in any verbal exchange..

Whenever that happens, I find it incredibly sad and I remember the moment I watched Frank Morgan become a mere mortal.

Now decades later, as an old woman, I find it equally sad that the once intriguing. exciting and provocative political arena is in such disarray.

I yearn for the yesterdays when citizens were comfortable discussing opposing views and not fearful of vitriolic reactions or verbal abuse.

I am wistful for a time now long gone when it would be considered unpatriotic to threaten to renounce citizenship if the opposition prevailed.

I also wonder if I would have preferred that the Wizard’s real identity had never been revealed to be an ordinary man

as well as

Not becoming fearful about the extent of the current political intrigue.