November 22, 2003 - Forty years ago I was 25 years old. My daughter was three, her brother only one and the world stopped turning for three days. It seemed that those three days that separated a parade in Dallas from another in the Capitol were suspended in a limbo punctuated by gunshots and the somber tones of television's newsmen telling us that the President was dead and a familiar face had succeeded to his place. Camelot was born that day in the cadence of the muffled drums. America had her own Arthur, asleep beneath his mountain awaiting the call when his nation would call him out to lead them. Of course Camelot never was and its Arthur just a creation of faulty memories that recalled the soaring words and blotted out the faltering steps of his three year reign. It was left to his Texan deputy to realize the promise of his words and blunder deeper into the swamp in Vietnam .

Then came America's dark visaged Modred with his sheaf of secret plans and arcane stratagems and the nation was divided anew between those who sought a new Arthur and those content to scoop up the booty; fill their purses; and ignore the weeping of the mothers left behind. Two generations have come of age since Camelot was born that shining November afternoon. We are still a divided people. Half of us still yearn for the Camelot that never was. Half of us are grateful that the promise of its message has been submerged in a morass of self interest and aggrandizement. The division grows ever deeper and its expression more bitter with each day.

We have our new Modred seated on the throne of power who maintains his place with the same appeals to greed and blood that have marked his predecessors' reigns. Where is our new Arthur, his courage tempered by the tragedy of war; his conscience pricked by visions of want and despair; with a message of confident hope that we can do better? Where is the new Arthur to appeal to our better angels with a message that rejects our darkest impulses? Where is the new Arthur to lead us with an outstretched hand instead of driving us with a mailed fist?