Trying as hard as he might, Donald Trump could not break the peace of the Verde Valley. As the family of John McCain endured the hot tears of despair in the Arizona sun, the President of the United States insulted his loyal sons of the south, canceled a pay raise for federal employees and continued the public humiliation of the White House Counsel, Don McGahn. The feting of John McCain must be so infuriating to the President he will do anything to recapture the headlines. Among a series of ten early morning tweets, the President accused NBC correspondent Lester Holt of doctoring his [Trump] infamous on-camera confession of obstruction of justice, berated Attorney General Jeff Sessions for speaking with such a heavy southern drawl, that he sounds as if he has “marbles” in his mouth. When all else failed the State Department is now denying Hispanics born on U.S. soil, their rightful citizenship.
Despite it all, America paused, pundits zipped their lips, and even the most diehard of liberals dabbed a tear or two at the heartbreak that played out on screens across the country as well as TV sets around the world. Meanwhile, in the Oval Office, Donald Trump was planning his latest insult-tour stop in Indiana. Still, in death, John McCain gave us a respite today and peace dwelled in the valley.
Of all the flashes of humanity amidst the sorrow, what struck me, while watching the coverage, was a little moment that was meant to be private but was caught on camera. After the wonderful tributes by the many dignitaries who called themselves friends of Senator McCain and the military pomp, that I must admit still stirs my feelings of patriotism, Cindy McCain seated herself in the back seat of the hearse that carried her husband’s body. The back window where she sat, probably realizing her husband would never accompany her on a ride again, was lowered and she waved and blew kisses to the crowd of mourners. The onlookers returned her gesture with sympathetic loving smiles, because at that moment that was all they could offer. Just prior to one of her sons entering the hearse from the opposite side, Mrs. McCain reached for a bottle of cool water, took a sip, replaced the cap, sat back, and clasped her hands.
Some of you may remember I buried my niece and goddaughter two weeks ago and I had that same moment; for a fleeting instance I was Cindy McCain. I held that same brand of water provided by the funeral home in the back seat of a limousine, felt the relieving touch on my hands of the cool plastic bottle on a scorching hot day, took a sip, replaced the cap, and took the same discharging deep breath. As public of a display, the ceremony for a famous figure is, you are in your own world of memories, your own world of acceptance and your own world of fears. What will your life be without someone you have loved so dearly for so long?
I did not love John McCain, because I did not know John McCain, but I, as you, have to be impressed when people who were at total odds with his philosophy, ideology, and politics, complete the summary of their relationship with him with the words,”…but I loved John McCain.”