I Have Never Made a Chocolate Soufflé
Traditionally, the concept of a new year brings the hope of change. It is a time when we reflect on the past and look forward to what we would like to accomplish, in the months to come. World wide, the concept of the New Year is celebrated on various dates, based on ancient calendars and traditions, with a wide assortment of rituals, from new clothes to fire works.
As those of us who live under the Gregorian calendar, get ready to celebrate New Year’s, I had been thinking, that I would write about New Year resolutions. I have always made my resolutions in September, which is when I was born, when school starts, and when autumn begins. In spring, I tend to think back to what I wanted in September, and see how I am doing – some years I fare better than others.
I had made notes, for this column, on why we set goals for ourselves and why there are things which we are afraid to even attempt to achieve. But, as I sat down to clean up my notes, and write, I happened to glance at the news. Benazir Bhutto was assassinated today in Pakistan. “The assassination happened in Rawalpindi’s Liaquat Bagh Park, named for Pakistan’s first Prime Minister — Liaquat Ali Khan — who was assassinated in the same location in 1951.”
Looking at the headlines, in disbelief, I cried. I have no personal connection to Pakistan or her politics; and certainly no relationship with Benazir Bhutto. I am in no position, to pass judgment, on Bhutto’s years of leadership, and am not sufficiently informed, to even offer an educated opinion, on the charges of corruption against her and her husband. It is not in these pages that her legacy will be determined; but I would be remiss to let her courage to live and die by her convictions, go unmentioned.
I remember when Bhutto first came to power, in 1988. The fact that a woman had been elected to lead a Muslim country, was worthy of taking note, and I remember October 18, 2007, when she returned to Pakistan, after a self imposed exile, under the threat of death. I watched the coverage, of her flight home, the demonstrations and violence, which accompanied her arrival, and listened to the commentaries, thinking then, that there were not too many people around, like her, anymore. She comes from a family that has been marred by political violence. Bhutto’s father, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, who was also prime minister, of Pakistan, in the early 1970’s, was executed, and her brothers were also killed, in their quest to provide leadership, in Pakistan.
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My Father, always had a picture of Jose Marti, the Cuban patriot and writer, who was killed, atop a white horse, as he rode into battle, to free Cuba of Spanish tyranny. Marti was a man of letters, and perhaps would have better served the cause, had he stayed away from the battles fields, surviving to rule instead of being martyred and mourned; but Marti was compelled to go into battle, with those he led, being true to his convictions, and earning a place in the hearts of his countrymen.
I have been in homes of people who lived through the depression and World War II, where pictures of President Franklin Roosevelt, were framed and set apart in a place of honor; the same with Irish Catholics, who enshrined John Kennedy. But, I can not recall recently seeing anyone with a framed photograph of Bill Clinton or George Bush – fund raising pictures do not count, those are pictures of you with the President, not the President.
Having always been a news junkie, even as a child, I recall the day, in August of 1974, when Richard Nixon resigned from office. I was devastated. I felt a personal loss, and I think now, that we, as a nation, of Americans, suffered a loss that has been unrecoverable. I admired President Nixon, he was my first President and my parents supported him. I did not understand Watergate or what had happened, and I did not understand the impact that his actions would have on America; but sadly, I do now. We have gone from a nation which honored and revered our leaders, to a nation which has little to no respect for our leaders or the offices, which they hold, especially the presidency.
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The Iowa Caucus is a week away, and after what seems like four years of campaigning, by a dozen or so people, Americans are finally going to begin to have a say, in our political future. Recently, several people have raised the issue of the upcoming elections, in my presence. Inevitably, no one is happy with the field of candidates. As the conversations have progressed, I have been shocked and saddened, to hear people say, that they are considering not voting. How can it be that Americans are choosing not to vote? I realize this is not a new phenomenon, depending on the elections, only 40-60 percent of eligible voters, cast a ballot in American elections. But what I do not remember is people previously bragging about their decision note to vote.
While ancient Greece may have birthed democracy, it is certainly Americans who have perfected and proliferated democracy, and the concept of a representative government, where citizens have earned the right to cast a vote. The war for suffrage was hard fought, and won with blood shed, yet for so many Americans, this honor and privilege is cast aside – why?
As I have already written, I also am none too pleased with the choices of this presidential season, but I can not imagine choosing to not be a part of the process. Is it really that our field of candidates simply does not inspire us? Of the people running, for the presidency, how many are prepared to risk their life for an idea – for democracy? I do not suppose anyone would argue that Senator John McCain has not already made that sacrifice; but it was gallantly and courageously made as a soldier, not as a candidate.
Benazir Bhutto returned to Pakistan to fight against military rule and in favor of democracy. She was killed because of her political convictions, and her loss does diminish us all; but it should also serve to convict us of our lethargy and indifference. I believe there are ideas worth dying for, and more importantly, I believe there are ideas worth living for which should compel us to act.
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I have never made a chocolate soufflé. I blame Sabrina, the old Audrey Hepburn and William Holden picture, for my fear to attempt a soufflé. There is a scene, in the movie, where Hepburn’s characters is sent off to the Cordon Bleu, in Paris, and she and her fellow classmates, present their soufflés for inspection – I remember being astounded at how many things one could do wrong to a soufflé, so I am sorry to say I have never attempted a chocolate soufflé.
I am amending my September resolutions, to include a chocolate soufflé, and a presidential candidate which I can support. I resolve, in 2008, to remember that there are still people laying down their life, for an idea; and that there are still people who inspire others to fight for what is just and true. I would imagine that in Pakistan, I might find more than one or two framed photographs of Benazir Bhutto, in someone’s home. Happy New Year . . . that is all for now.
www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/asiapcf/12/17/pakistan.bhutto/index.html
