  Just Say No... to laugh-tracks. Just because I dont have tv doesnt mean Id miss tonights burial of the President. When the bugle sounded and played taps, the tears came. Watching that sweet old woman crying with her forehead pressed to the coffin while clutching his flag was truly heartbreaking. Experiencing the loss through her, I think, helped to break through the self-consciousness that saw me watching tv and weeping for someone I never knew (when I sure as hell didnt cry at the last funeral I went to).
Margarat Thatcher, Arnie and Maria, and WHA? Whats Scott Baio doing there? If theres one thing Ive been reminded of through these past couple of weeks is the power that images have to form a persons personal recollection of history. Which is why I came to mom and dads tonight to be a witness to this too. To watch it alone so Im free to express whatever I want without the consideration of another. Feeling ridiculous for crying. Feeling pressed to say something funny to allow us to step out of the moment in case it had an actual weight that means something, perhaps something uncomfortable. Ah, the images of military men and the pie-in-the-sky words of a chaplain. Who says were a secular nation where military might and Christian ideology remain separate? This was all a little too fantastic for me, but then it wasnt my funeral, now was it? Seriously though isnt the notion of touching the face of god upon dying just a little too first millennia?
This is probably not new to all of you who've been watching tv all along this week, but FOX keeps running these old ads of Reagan (the channel no TV isnt set to in the parental conservative kingdom). Ads I actually remember from his reelection campaign in 84. With all the world events we watch unfolding before our eyes, its amazing how much we retain.
Considering how braindead television is said to make us. Strange to revisit these old sensory pathways left to grow over with weeds for so many years. Seeing this stuff again is kind of like hearing a song you cant quite place but know it means something. Unlike the songs of Ray Charles which are as easy to place as the national anthem. Fresh Air rebroadcast an interview Terry had with him a few short years ago, and I listened to it for the second time this week.
His interview played like a song so well matched with his rough-honey singing voice; songs that filled my condo all afternoon. He will be missed. And again, Im sorely reminded of why I turned off my tv months ago. As soon as the coverage of the sunset funeral ended, so did my interest. 
