A Reminder that I live In Bush Country

A year to the month before they pulled Spalding Gray's body from the East River, I saw Spalding Gray die. It happened on a stage in Houston.

Gray began with a few spontaneous remarks about the war. His voice was strangely quiet, even for him. He sounded distant and weary. His words were barely political. Just wondering aloud, which is what he always did. Why is this administration so intent upon doing this? Lots of people are about to die: Why exactly is this happening? Questions a lot of us were asking ourselves at the time. He made a crack about Donald Rumsfeld, who is as easy and pleasurable a comic target as any figure in American political life since Nixon. Just ordinary wondering and musing.

But his audience was not of New York, or Chicago, or Austin, for that matter. This was Bush Country. And many of the good Republican Houstonians in the house began shouting and jeering, defending the war and its president, and objecting to any such talk goddammit during their night out at the theater.

"We're fighting for your freedom!"

"Love it or leave it!"

"We ain't here to listen to this!"

"Shut up and start the show!"

A number of the offended bolted for the exits, spouses and companions in tow.

"Have you been following the war on TV?" he asked his first onstage visitor.

I don't recall the answer.

Gray responded back that he couldn't bear to watch it.

This infuriated some more among the audience.

He wondered aloud again, asking no one at all if war was necessary "just to get one man."

The house Republicans who remained joined the revolt. More jeering, more partisan bickering. People were leaving now in droves. Mike and I, from our vantage point high up and far away, watched in amazement as the seats emptied, the aisles filled, the chaos reigned below us.

el - I will miss watching more of his monologues.