The year 2004 will go down in America as "a year on the brink." So much came at the nation's citizens so fast, the country basically decided to stay with the man it knew the best for president, and then held on.
Ups and downs abounded both on Wall Street and Main Street. Highs and lows rattled thermometers and also cultural barometers. The war effort slogged on, with good news and bad news trading punches. Natural disasters ripped up whole sections of the landscape. An unfathomable tragedy happened halfway around the globe. Closer to home, immigrants poured in from the south as never before. Meanwhile, the economy wobbled to and fro like a punch-drunk boxer.
Most Americans sensed they were at a crossroads but seemed to have little feeling for where the roads would lead. And behind the puzzled and muddled looks of the populace was a sense that things may get worse before they improve.
Still, American optimism and the republic's innate, sunny sense of purpose — attitudes that have rankled other countries for two centuries now — kept bubbling to the surface.
Yes, steroids abounded in baseball, NBA fights broke out and the U.S. Olympic basketball team went in the tank, but — hey — how about those Red Sox? The underdog undid the dreaded Yankees as neatly as in the Broadway musical.
Michael Moore told the nation it was going South. Mel Gibson put out a film saying — with faith — all would be well in the end.
Kobe Bryant, Michael Phelps and Jason Giambi stumbled as role models. Lance Armstrong, golfer Phil Mickelson and the American swim team left a better taste and better memories.
And as expected, Americans indulged themselves. They indulged in food — growing heavier by the minute. They pampered themselves with toys, games and technological devices as never before. They bought bigger cars, smaller telephones and fancier homes. When guilt kicked in, they did what Americans do. They looked for a quick fix. They turned to pills with side-effects, diets that didn't work and home exercise equipment that fell apart on delivery.
Again, as P.T. Barnum said, there was a sucker born every minute in 2004. But then that's the cynic's take. If Americans are suckers, it's because they are true believers. They're ready to accept, embrace and trust. And those American virtues were on full display.
Americans were suckers for hucksters, yes. But they were also suckers for sentiment. They mourned their fallen heroes — those in Iraq and those at home — such as Ray Charles, Julia Child, Ronald Reagan and Captain Kangaroo.
They cheered when scoundrels, like Scott Peterson, got their due and when icons, like Arnold Schwarzenegger, lived up to their billing. They wept to see children lose their innocence.
In short, it was a happy-sad, ugly-pretty American year.
"We come on the ship they called the Mayflower," Paul Simon sang on his 2004 concert tour, "We come on a ship that sailed the moon . . . and we sing an American tune."
In 2004, that tune may have been a bit more somber than in the past; but it was a tune nevertheless. And through the dread and doom, Americans kept on whistling it.
One suspects they always will.