Seven Sevens

Connectivity is generally presumed.  But the hit rate on say, Skyping-out to any number, domestic or international, is hardly “five-nines.”  Rather, we have something more like seven-sevens or perhaps eight-eights.  One out of five calls or so drops.  And there are stretches where every call hangs, one after another.  This morning was a connectivity rout. 

I call the conference, and my microphone doesn’t work.  “We can’t hear you.”  Right.  I search in vain among the drop downs.  There must be another mic button.  But other people are waiting.  I give up and say I will call you (at $3.00 per-minute) on my cell.  I do.  But to do so, I must slip on my shoes, throw on my sweater and trod out to the middle of our street to conduct my call.  There is no reliable cell phone reception inside my home.   Why am I the only one in the neighborhood with this strategy?  I’d expect the whole block to be conducting calls in the street.

I’m still thinking about the first Democratic debate.  It isn’t especially novel, but it is unrehearsed and candid; I thought Hillary looked outstanding.  She is the only defensible internationalist among them.  Sanders New York accent was embraceably familiar.   But he had trouble showing his breadth, particularly on the world beyond the 48 states.  Wealth inequality is a pivotal critique, but it is not the only critique.  His evening seemed unhinged from our global responsibilities and the implications for withdrawing from them. 

I had the children watch it later.  I found myself drawing attention to the points in the debate that commentators had already commented on.  “This part is important.”  Is it really?  Certainly it will be talked about.  But is the moment of kindness between Sanders and Hillary:  “She’s right.  The American people don’t give a damn about your emails,” really the defining exchange?  “There, you see, that’s a human moment.”  The children note them smiling and shaking hands.  Someone was selfless in the name of truth.  This is “bad politics” and still politics, noble and chivalrous and the rarest of all, it seemed spontaneous.   Favorite line?  “Would you care to comment Mrs. Clinton?”  “No.” 

Are there really a full thirteen months to go?