Mourning Becomes Ivanka

There isn't a conscience anywhere to be seen in that family but I'm pinning my hopes on Ivanka. At least she doesn't hunt big game--or I don't think she does. In between the lines in much of what I encounter treating of Trumps, and with the inauguration from hell impending, there is enormous sadness and mourning and a vast sense of loss. 

On the surface there may be anger or criticism or election forensics or whatever but among caring and intelligent people the sadness and disappointment are overwhelming. This really can't be us--but it is. Strange noises of confliction seem to be emanating from people's heads. Is there a hint of remorse amid the triumphalism in Trumpland?

If so it's with Ivanka, the only member of the house who appears to have any breadth of vision. Occasionally I think I detect sadness in those eyes. And, consider this, that I bet she looks good in black and the Tower is close to Tiffany's and she could reenact the opening scene of the breakfast there in a little black dress like Audrey's.

Mourning may become her. It sure as hell becomes us. The failing aspirations of individuals are one thing. The failing aspirations of an entire society are another.