Visiting the Capitol Rotunda

Today, Eli and I went to the Capitol Rotunda to see Gerald Ford's coffin lying in state. It was my idea for us to view it. Last night, when we discussed it, Eli was puzzled by my wanting to do this, and I explained to him that I have long been fascinated by history and politics. I wanted to witness this political-historic ritual. Eli protested that Ford was a mediocrity and that few people could remember anything he did other than pardon Nixon. I insisted on going nonetheless. We chatted about the things he was perhaps, according to Timothy Noah in Slate, undercredited for. Putting together a remarkably capable administration, bringing the inflation rate to under 5 percent.

So, this morning we walked to the Capitol. We went wended our way south and east on DC"s grid, passing gentrifying areas and down-at-the-heels areas. Eli expressed a desire to stop in at a Starbucks and get in out of the cold, but there was nary a Starbucks to be had. The walk was instructive. We saw churches, of both the rundown and stately, proud variety, empty bottles of Crown Royal, young people jogging, a man sitting on the sidewalk, doubled over, apparently sick and inebriated, out in the cold.

As we approached the Capitol, Eli said, "Look, there are throngs of people come to see Gerald Ford."

"You're teasing me," I observed.

When the line did come into sight, we were surprised at how long it was, but we learned that the wait was only an hour long, a dramatic contrast with the six or more hours people stood in line to view Reagan's body.

Eli and I watched the other visitors (it seems over the top to call us mourners) and wondered what had brought them there. A love for Ford or the feeling that witnessing this was part of being American? Toddlers patiently holding their parents hands, older people, teens who were born well after the Ford administration, a surprising number of Masons clad in chains and colorful smocks. ("If I'm going to join a secret society, it won't be one with bibs," Eli remarked.)

As we waited to the line to move, I offered, weakly , that Ford led at a more bipartisan time than the country has experienced since. I wondered whether moderate, bipartisan politicians are fated to be remembered as mediocrities because the vocal, extreme ideologists will not sing their praises. As we live in a time when moderation is scarce and two Americans seem to be starting at each other from accross a wide gap, being a moderate--a force for holding the country together--seems to me a valient thing. Perhaps all the more heroic because these moderates are destined to be underappreciated in what they do for us. I think it was John Adams, having refused to cater to the popular desire to go to war with the British, who said, "Let is say on my grave. 'He saved the Union.'"

After about an hour, we had passed through security. We turned a corner from the security tent and found our selves on a landing on the Capitol steps, with a view of downtown spread before us. We turned towards the building and marveled at the intricate details carved into the marble stone. We turned a corner and came up the steps into the Capitol Rotunda.

Seeing the president lying in state turned out not to be a reflective experience. It was more of a martial experience. The capitol police whispered, as we slowed to look at the flad-draped coffin, "Keep the line moving!" About five soldiers in uniform stood perfectly still around the coffin. We looked at them more than at the coffin, wondering how anyone keeps so still for so long with so many eyes on them. What might they be thinking? We glimpsed the famous statues out of the corner of our eyes as we were walked out of the Rotunda.