Obama's oratorical skills were held against him during his campaign, as though his speeches were just empty flourishes, devoid of anything but rhetoric. What his critics failed--still fail--to recognize, in what I can only assume to be their envy, is that there is no great oratory without great vision. Obama's impressive strength lies not in his ability to speak fine words, but in the breadth of his historical vision and understanding, his ability to find connections and weave them into a coherent intellectual overview, his command of appropriate anecdote and metaphor, his ability to blend gravity and humor, simple truth with obdurately complex issue. All of which bespeaks not the glib skills of a salesman but the quality of a man who commands his own resources and has the special gift of being able to communicate his vision to others. Beside such a grandly unifying speech as this one, the partisan squeaks of his opponents sound pusillanimous indeed.
In her late-life interview with Gwen Ifill, re-broadcast last night, the inimitable Eartha Kitt was as elegant and eloquent in her own way as the man she did not live to see take the oath of office. Interesting that these two pioneers of mixed heritage should voice much the same ideas about race.
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And what an extraordinary woman she was. At 81, she strode onto the stage for her interview, kicking up a perfectly-toned leg through the hip-to-heel slit in her long skirt. It seemed that she had lost none of the vitality, the assertive, teasing sexuality, the purring sensuality of her youthful years. I recall listening to her songs--"Monotonous," "Santa Baby,"--back in the 1950s, a (very!) young twenty-something year old Brit, totally in awe, unimaginably seduced by the unabashed come-on in her sultry voice. I would have expected all that energy to seem slightly obscene, coming from a woman of 81, but instead I was intensely moved by her performance, and found it no less enchanting than it had been all those years ago. I watched her preen and flirt with the audience, with her interviewer, with the band... all with a kind of throw-away grace that charmed them all. She positively oozed vitality from every pore.
Incredible, really, that this still-powerful woman was to die, barely three months later, on Christmas Day, of colon cancer. I have no doubt at all but that Santa Baby had hurried down the chimney just the night before.
2 comments:
Exactly my sentiments, Pete! She was the most outrageous personage, white, black whatever. The way she dealt with Mrs. LBJ and her all-round spunkiness. ... and not a bad Catwoman either.
Hey btw, I.m staffing with Bob Slavik in San Diego next week. Only some of your readers will know what that means but what the hey, I'm the only comment on this post at this time so I'll take the spotlight.
Thanks for checking in, Noe. As it happens, I too will be on staff for a NWTA--for the first time in several years. I've no doubt it will be coming up in some form in The Buddha Diaries...
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