By Count Friedrich von Olsen
Oh! What a difference a century makes! Here we are in 2016. Would anyone have even slightly suspected I would make it this far? I doubt it. If someone had suggested to me when I was 16, or 25, or 33, or 47, or 65 or 75 for that matter, that I would still be walking around in 2016, I likely would have broken into a paroxysm of laughter so severe I would have expired on the spot! Yet, here I am…
2016, an even year, one divisible moreover by 4 and thus an Olympic year, and yes, a presidential election year. So, as of this week, the decks are cleared and we know with certainty, or as much certainty as one might have, that Hillary Clinton, the Democrat, will square off against Donald Trump, the Republican. I have in past columns let my feelings about Ms. Clinton be known. And I am bound by the 11th Commandment from speaking ill of a fellow Republican…
Perhaps, gentle reader, you might use your powers of searing focus and ineluctable deduction to fathom my full sentiments this way: This being 2016, one feels invited to make a comparison to 1916, which, alas, seems like only yesterday to one such as myself. Do you recall who the Democrats’ nominee was that year? How about the Republican nominee? You need not cudgel your brains nor consult an encyclopedia or almanac. I will tell thee: Woodrow Wilson in the blue corner and Charles Evans Hughes in the red corner…
These were men of substance, of bearing, of vision, of character. They were good men. They were great men, even if Wilson had the flaw of being a Democrat. That age stands in stark contrast to this one. The choice for voters in 1916 represented an embarrassment of riches. The choice in 2016? I am tempted to say that this choice is simply an embarrassment…
Ahh, what a difference a mere century makes…