Conversation with Bob

Friday night, we were watching the Tour de France.  We gasped at one of the more dramatic crashes, and felt relieved when everyone got up and continued. Bob remarked angrily that the spectator that caused the crash was -- well -- a douche.

Trying to offer perspective, I remarked that as international catastrophes go, this was not the largest one this year, or even this week, by any means. I started naming some of the worst headlines from 2016. Nice, France. Orlando, Florida. Brexit. Coup in Turkey.  The Presidential Elections so far, what a cluster ______.

Bob:  I guess we had no idea.
Me: [quizzical expression]
Bob: We underestimated his influence.
Me: Wha...  ?
Bob: You know. He must have been a stabilizing force in international affairs. So to speak.
Me: Harvey?
Bob: YES.
Me: It's all starting to make sense.

December 4, 2015. That was when I said goodbye to Harv.

I hate to say it but it seems to me that it was the start of some real unravelling well beyond what I'd dreamed. Harvey, my international peacekeeper, elder statesman -- and yes, an American Thoroughbred.