So the last Americans pulled out of Iraq, eight and a half years later, leaving an uncertain nation with an even more uncertain future.
As I watched the video of the last trucks crossing the Kuwait border, all I could see were the black hulls of the Greek ships sailing away, gray smoke still hanging in the ruined walls of Troy.
Not that Iraq is currently in ruins, but the Trojan war has been on my mind for the last decade, since George W. Bush, like Agamemnon before him, began gathering reluctant allies for a headstrong military adventure that brought grief to nearly everyone associated with it.
To appease the gods for sending a military force to make war on a society in which non-combatants on only one side would be at risk, Agamemnon sacrificed his own daughter, Iphigenia. (His wife would later kill him for having done that.) Mr. Bush made no such sacrifice, nor did he ask the majority of his countrymen to make any sacrifice on behalf of the soldiers he commanded.
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To the Window
One of my New Year’s resolutions is to pay closer attention to the weather. Not the climate, the weather and not for professional or environmental or scientific reasons, but for the pleasure of it, for the purpose of rooting myself in this particular place I’ve chosen as my home.
I’ve paid enough attention to the weather in past years to know it changes every day and not in the obvious way: one day cloudy and the next clear. I mean that by looking at a photo, I might see clues that tell me it was taken in northwestern Vermont in the second month of winter, rather than the first or third.
This is easy enough in the other three seasons of the year, merely by looking at the state of vegetation (although I still have much to learn then, too), but winter is more subtle and thus, more rewarding to the patient observer. The quality, quantity and location of the snow most immediately present to the eye, but these metrics grow more unreliable each year. (Alas, this is where climate and my professional life intrude.)
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