I‘m back from a day and a half at the American Political Science Association’s annual meeting in Philadelphia, and here are the highlights: breakfast with an old friend at the Down Home Diner in Reading Terminal Market; dinner with several political scientists/TWS contributors at the 117-year old Dante & Luigi‘s at 10th and Catharine; and lunch with my friend John DiIulio at Susan’s and my old favorite, Marra’s, on E. Passyunk in South Philly, where, it turns out, John’s parents had their first date just before World War II. I’ve been to Philly three times this summer, for a family occasion, the Democratic convention, and now the political science convention. Each time, I’d just resolved to begin to diet. It turns out Philly is the city where diets go to die. They should call it The City of Brotherly Eating. But for the foreseeable future, I have no plans to be in Philadelphia. So health and svelteness beckon!
Meanwhile, you ask, what wisdom did I imbibe, what intellectual breakthroughs did I learn of from the thousands of political scientists assembled in the Philadelphia Convention Center and various nearby hotels?
My answer: THIS SPACE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK.
I will say, however, that the two panels I participated in were interesting—no thanks to me, but to panelists like Jim Ceaser of the University of Virginia, Rogers Smith of Penn, and Bill Voegeli of the Claremont Institute. Both panels were 2016-election related, and it was good to have a chance to step back from the fray and hear others’ thoughts on the meaning of what’s happened, and what lessons might be drawn. I want to think more about some of their arguments—but I’d say the panels had the general effect of making me more convinced than ever that a major re-thinking of many things, from the presidential nominating process to likely next steps for conservatism, will be necessary after November 8th. Speaking of November 8th, probably the best line from one of the participants was this: “If God had wanted us to vote, He’d have given us better candidates.”
Meanwhile, to file under the heading of “Gee, we’re getting old!” I checked into my hotel near City Hall, the lobby of which is a converted old and grand bank building. I asked the desk clerk when the hotel had taken over from the bank, and she said she wasn’t sure, but “It was ages and ages ago.” Since I actually remembered that building as a functioning bank, this would imply that I lived in Philly in pre-historic times. Of course, in a way I did: A moment’s thought told me that if the building was converted a few years after I left Philly, that would still have been before the young lady handling check-ins was born. Tempus fugit, and all that. (I couldn’t remember where that expression comes from, so I of course went to Wikipedia. It’s from Virgil’s Georgics (Book 3, line 284), and the original is fugit inreparabile tempus: “it escapes, irretrievable time”. Virgil could write.)
