The Misanthrope’s Corner

THE Washington Post obituary for columnist Richard Grenier stated that he died of a heart attack while watching the State of the Union address. I was saddened by the news because I liked Grenier’s writing, but not at all surprised by the circumstances of his death. I had an iffy moment myself when Bush referred to “the families I’ve hugged,” but at least it was a line I could have some fun with once I got over the initial jolt. My closest brush with a blood pressure “event” occurred when he warmed to another theme that circles around our nation al life like a persistent gnat and insinuates itself through our collective conscience like the fault line of a dropped stitch in a tapestry.

Every president from Jimmy Carter on has parlayed it, each one kicking the intensity up another notch like Emeril Lagasse hurling garlic into his pots. Carter didn’t make a lot of speeches about it, choosing instead to hammer the point home by building houses for the poor until we all understood that he was a carpenter with the initials J. C. It was a tough act to follow, but Reagan enshrined Alexis de Tocqueville and told the touring Frenchman’s story about the frontier barn-raising so many times that he turned “volunteerism” into a buzzword. The elder Bush, propelled by the family tendency to goopiness, coined “a thousand points of light.” Then came the Clintons, one creating AmeriCorps and the other talking up The Little Village That Could. Now we have Bush 43 demanding a little chunk of our lives— not much, heck, you won’t even miss it— urging us to drop everything to go off somewhere and mentor somebody.

About the Author

Florence King

Florence King was a contributing editor of National Review.

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Alexis de Tocqueville

THE Washington Post obituary for columnist Richard Grenier stated that he died of a heart attack while watching the State of the Union address. I was saddened by the news because I liked Grenier’s writing, but not at all surprised by the circumstances of his death. I had an iffy moment myself when Bush referred to “the families I’ve hugged,” but at least it was a line I could have some fun with once I got over the initial jolt. My closest brush with a blood pressure “event” occurred when he warmed to another theme that circles around our nation al life like a persistent gnat and insinuates itself through our collective conscience like the fault line of a dropped stitch in a tapestry.

Every president from Jimmy Carter on has parlayed it, each one kicking the intensity up another notch like Emeril Lagasse hurling garlic into his pots. Carter didn’t make a lot of speeches about it, choosing instead to hammer the point home by building houses for the poor until we all understood that he was a carpenter with the initials J. C. It was a tough act to follow, but Reagan enshrined Alexis de Tocqueville and told the touring Frenchman’s story about the frontier barn-raising so many times that he turned “volunteerism” into a buzzword. The elder Bush, propelled by the family tendency to goopiness, coined “a thousand points of light.” Then came the Clintons, one creating AmeriCorps and the other talking up The Little Village That Could. Now we have Bush 43 demanding a little chunk of our lives— not much, heck, you won’t even miss it— urging us to drop everything to go off somewhere and mentor somebody.