Where Are the Men?

Today, Bush, I am resolved to sit with a single question: Where are the men? Here's the reason: I have been invited next month to attend a gathering of fifty elder men from the international ManKind Project up in Sisters, Oregon--a strange choice, perhaps, for a gathering of brothers, but there you have it: Sisters--and to be their keynote speaker. I am at once honored by the invitation, and trembling in my boots for fear that my own small share of wisdom will appear foolish and irrelevant to this group of distinguished other men. They are all elders. They are seasoned warriors. They have all "done their work", in the sense that they have looked deeply into their own lives, their own intentions, their own sense of mission. Their own souls. They have struggled with their shadows. To revert to yesterday's "Star Wars" metaphor, they have immersed themselves in the dark side, and have succeeded in touching upon the good side of the Force.

What can I say to them, Bush, these men of great depth and experience, who have been through their battles and emerged the stronger and the wiser? I'm unsure how it will work out, but I have the strategy: I will consult the oracle. I will use today's newspaper, page by page, to tell me where the men are, and what the men are doing in the world. The Good. The Bad. The Ugly. I will acknowledge my complicity in their actions. I will ask each of us, at that gathering, to acknowledge our complicty. For I see these men in the newspaper to be ourselves. Just as I see you, Bush, in these diaries, to be myself. My own worst enemy. My own best friend. We'll see today, Bush, how this strategy works. It will be a day of adventure into the unknown. Wish me luck.