I was at a cookout on an absolutely beautiful evening among hoi polloi of Evanston and the conversations centered on the convention. Hoi pollois with million dollar homes, kids in, or graduated from, private colleges, driving Priusi or Lexi to keep with the Greco/Roman theme.
As I coasted amid the conversations, there were Hillaryites planning an Alpine Redoubt of resistance as their candidate was humiliated by the usurper on one side. Obama is triumphant on the other. Triumphant, but nervous. Nervous about the Clintons, nervous about the Bradley effect, nervous about the ongoing Illinois/Chicago Democratic fratricide spilling onto the convention floor. Nervous that Emil Jones' Uncle Tom moment would spill into the national media.
The Obamas outnumbered the Hillaryites ten to one, but the Hillaryites dominated every conversation. Hard high voices, hard eyes, we have to burn the village to save it argument prevailing. The palm branch of uniting for the historic occasion of an African-American candidate for President met with the fury of a female candidate scorned.
So much for the process bringing us all together.
As the wine and imported beer flowed and the evening darkened into night, the mood darkened as well. Bush lied, people died .... Halliburton stealing billions, Cheney the dark lord, the stolen election, Swift Boating, all forgotten in a new, not particularly civil, war. Made worse as the tequila bottles came out, drab substitutes for this generation's shrooms, bud, and Inca Two Step, and fueled the two party's emotions. The verbal jousts of the late afternoon became deadly serious dueling as the moon rose. An inept response and the boot in, as the strong devoured the weak. Differences of opinion not acceptable. The differences obvious signs of hidden racism, or sexism, or bigotry, or closet Republicanism.
The allowing of the Clintons to speak much too little to the Hillary supporters, much too much to the Obama group. Somewhere, possibly in South Carolina, it seemed the worm had turned on the Clinton legacy. The Empress and Emperor seen without clothes. Desiccated trees rather than healthy green forests. To the Obama supporters they were done. Their time past. Their future speeches to be endured not savored as in years past.
To the Hillary hard liners, the ones who still hoped for a convention surprise, there was still hope of a Damascene moment of clarity among the delegates and a woman nominee.
I left them to their positions. Like Madigan and Blago, the twain might not meet by November. There was no joy in E-ville. The Democrats had found much to disagree on and little to unite around.