(for the moment, I’m going to end posting with this piece,
which is where I had originally planned to stop. I know people are looking at
these entries. But since I’ve received no word from any of them as to whether
they want me to continue passed this point, I’m going to take to take a couple
of days to determine whether or not I’ll post any more – this includes poetry
and journals).
What I thought would happen didn’t happen, and I’m not sure
I’m relieved.
I showed up at the school renaming early, loaded down with
cameras and about a dozen old press passes.
She was not there when I arrived and so I got access to the
building, and started taking pictures including the senator with his new trophy
wife.
Our poet arrived just as the ceremonies were about to get
underway, making her way up to the second floor of the atrium where she glared
down at me, puzzled perhaps, maybe pissed, but she certainly must have felt a
bit put out, having almost now power to stop me.
Few moments over the last two and a half years seem so sad as
this one.
Her relatively late arrival suggested that she had no part
in the planning . The Small Man and the Congressman would have prohibited her
from going anywhere near this, if only because of her relationship with RR, and
she likely showed up just to appear as if she had a role.
If she had tried to stop me from covering it, I knew nothing
of it, although it seemed clear from her glaring down at me from half way up
the stairs, she was not pleased.
She eventually disappeared in the direction of the auditorium
where the part of the ceremony was to take place, and I assumed she would take
on her role as the town photographer.
A short time later, I caught sight of her outside the school
(where another portion of the ceremony was to take place). She was scolding the
local TV crew about their setting up outside the designated area.
When I saw her again, she stood all alone, clutching her
camera, but seemed not to intending to use it. She spoke with no one and no one
appeared to talk to her.
When the ceremony began inside, she stood up one of the aisles,
taking pictures of the color guard and the marching band. I passed her a few
times when she took photos of the Virgin Mayor on the stage.
Many of the very powerful people who had come to honor the
U.S. Senator greeted me within earshot of her, making me wonder if she was
intimidated by it, or peeved, or perhaps felt I might have had something to do
with her being pushed to the side (which I did not.)
For most of the event, she sat in a corner by herself, near
where I was for a while before I moved back to the front. She spent a lot of
time texting, but did not look happy, only isolated.
Later, she failed to appeal outside for the unveiling of the
name of the school even though the Virgin Mayor was there.
She left for some place else, perhaps the safety of her
office in City Hall.
As much as she seemed to like the idea of being a political
insider, she appeared to be more outside than any of us, looking at remote in
this event as she had during the event that had helped name the school after
the congressman a few weeks ago, seemingly powerless, while still aching for a
place in the pecking order.
The feeling I get is that her ability to control situations only
involves smaller circles, and it would seem she has been very damaged by her
work to bring down the congressman, as well as by the emotional turmoil with
her lover.
In the aftermath of this last event, I think it is unlikely
I will ever see her again, and that she will soon move on, if not to greener pastures,
then to a place and situation in which she is less compromised.
After all that we went through, after all the hatred
directed in my direction, I thought I would feel pleased at her demise. But I
feel now the way I did when she resigned our office, knowing that something
extremely sad has happened, a complete waste of amazing talent.
But this is like a boxing match. Regardless of how beat up a
fighter is, as long as he is still standing, he’s the winner – even if winning
tastes very bad in my mouth.
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