MY SAY: MARK STEYN ON THE INAUGURATION AND WHY CALVIN COOLIDGE IS STILL MY FAVORITE PRESIDENT
http://www.nationalreview.com/blogs/print/338290
Mindful of Kathryn’s observation that even NR types are resisting “the urge to rain on the president’s parade today,” I thought I’d nevertheless venture a wee bit of criticism — not of the speech, which was true to form, but of the overall vibe of the event, which seemed to me big but empty. The ceremonial lunch (I caught Nancy Pelosi speaking as the Obamas, Biden, Boehner, and Mrs. Clinton looked on) seemed especially reductive of this great nation, but Chuck Schumer as Friar’s Club emcee, and that poet from hell, and Beyoncé and Kelly Clarkson all contributed to the general pseudo-monarchical tinniness.
I see that if not quite raining I’m certainly drizzling. So let me cite my favorite presidential “inauguration.” I’ve written before about how much I enjoy visiting the Calvin Coolidge homestead in Plymouth Notch, Vt., and how it embodies the republican ideal of the citizen-executive. It’s very moving to stand in the small, humble sitting room where, just before 3 in the morning, Colonel John Coolidge, a notary public, administered the oath of office to his son by kerosene lamp. The character of the place and its moment in history are as far away from the palaces of mighty emperors as you could get, and uniquely American in their spirit. Granted, Coolidge assumed the presidency in very different circumstances, but I don’t think he’d have missed Kelly Clarkson or the poem guy — and I wish there were a little room for that spirit amid all the celeb-stuffed bombast.
THE INIMITABLE MARK STEYN IN 2007
The other day I took my kids over to the Coolidge homestead in Plymouth Notch, Vermont, and with the aid of snowshoes we scrambled up the three-foot drifts of the village’s steep hillside cemetery to his grave. Seven generations of Coolidges are buried there all in a row – including Julius Caesar Coolidge, which is the kind of name I’d like to find on the ballot next November (strong on war, but committed to small government). The President’s headstone is no different from those of his forebears or his sons – just a simple granite marker with name and dates: in the summer, if memory serves, there’s a small US flag in front, but if there’s one there now it’s under a ton of snow and only the years of birth and death enable you to distinguish it from the earlier Calvin Coolidges in his line.
I do believe it’s the coolest grave of any head of state I’ve ever stood in front of. “We draw our presidents from the people,” said Coolidge. “I came from them. I wish to be one of them again.” He lived the republican ideal most of our political class merely pays lip service to.
Afterwards, we stopped at the cheese factory his son John owned until 1998 and bought a round of their excellent granular curd cheese.
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