Barack Obama’s grandmother, you remember, the woman who raised him, for whom he broke from campaigning to visit on her deathbed, was laid to rest yesterday.
Barry wasn’t there.
The election is over, and it looks like Barry doesn’t need her anymore. He’ll be squeezing his last respects into a previously planned Hawai’i vacation next month.
I have plenty of understanding for people to grieve in their own way, in their own time. But I wouldn’t miss my grandmother’s funeral. I didn’t. It’s not so much about one’s own grief for those few hours. It is a signal of comforting regard for the sake entire family.
As “The One”, the absolving, healing uniter of a divided people, Barry has failed his first post-election character test.
Tell me it doesn’t matter.