By Connie Denney
Holy hanging chads and dangling participles, Batman!
March Madness may have taken on more meanings than intended. Have you noticed such references in political cartoons or other commentary on what is going on in this country in the name of preparation for election of a President of the United States of America, leader of the free world? Madness? Could be.
Just when we thought we had seen it all! Remember those hanging chads in Florida back in 2000? And, what about going to the Supreme Court for a decision?
Those memories fade a bit. Then, here come situations presenting Republican Party Establishment Guys trying to figure out how to get around the TRUMPeter who blows his own horn to a different tune, when they’re not sure about the Number Two guy either. But, if THE PEOPLE are voting for him, what do you do? Then there’s the Democratic front-RUNNER portrayed as being trailed by the FBI, as well as her opponent for the presidential nomination.
As I write, it is still March. The diversion of the other March Madness has been so very welcome. That would be the NCAA (National Collegiate Athletic Association) basketball tournaments (men’s and women’s). I am not a sports writer and will refrain from further comment, except to say that being the loyal Lady Vols fan I am, I was still pleasantly surprised they made it to the Elite Eight level.
Basketball and losses remind me of the passing of a favorite author during the month. Pat Conroy wrote in a memoir, My Losing Season, about playing college basketball for The Citadel, Charleston, S.C., in the 60s.
The loss of Conroy added to the disconcertedness of this last month. His was a voice of the South heard and respected far beyond our region. I remember his (or, perhaps, someone in his family) being credited with saying they put the fun in dysfunctional. His novels were peopled with his people. The characters could be complicated; but, he had a way of helping us see from whence they came.
In one he wrote of losing a brother. My late brother had introduced me to Conroy’s writing, another reason I’m feeling the loss. In The Water is Wide, Conroy wrote of his own experiences teaching on South Carolina’s Daufuskie Island (called Yamacraw in the book). Visiting that island several years ago, I saw the tiny building they had used for a school and developed a deeper appreciation for those who love to teach.
Whether it came or went as a lamb or lion, March held its ups and downs. There were tragedies in our community and out in the bigger world. Then, just as we knew it would, spring came.
Thanks for sharing my ramblings and allowing me a bit of personal reminiscing. Thanks, too, for sharing this space with me from month to month. I hope I won’t let too many participles dangle, but trust you will hang in there with me.
Whatever April holds, at least by the time you read this April Fool’s Day will be over. If madness continues, we will deal with it.