WHO'S PARADISE IS THIS ANYWAY?

THIS IS PARADISE

I spent one of the last weekends of summer out on Long Island. People sailing on the bay. Families enjoying the beach. Children swimming in the ocean. Parents trying to catch up on their reading.

I went to the US Open to see Federer take apart his opponents. To watch the Williams sisters bring their particular brand of courage to the court once again. To see Henin hunker down and prevail.

I went to Radio City to hear Tony Bennett sing at a benefit for his arts education charity. Bennett, who brings more talent and musical history to a single performance than any ten artists, sang as beautifully as ever. But to see him at that great venue was a special evening. To be Tony Benett, the real Tony Bennett, for just one night. That would be something.

On Sunday, I attend the Emmys and hope my show fares well there and that we have a good season on NBC.

I live in New York and as 9/11 commemorations approach, I can't help but think that this city, this country of ours, this is paradise. Here. Now. Not some promise of where we may go in some Christian or Muslim depiction of an afterlife. All that one could hope for, that one could pray to God for, all that one could dream of having, without having to lie or steal or hurt another person in order to gain it, all of that is here on this Earth now.

Who is running for president that can remind us of that? Who, among all of these people, can promise to help us get our faith back? Who can promise us that they will lead us out of these horribly cynical times? Who can help us redefine our place in a world of ever shifting political realities? Who can gives us the courage to make the sacrifices we will certainly have to make in order to accommodate nature's new rules? Who can help us to overcome the awful shame we have endured during the past seven years?

My friend told me about a T-shirt she saw. "It's not the end of the world but I can see it from here." Perhaps the Earth possesses a self-purging mechanism. Perhaps we are destined to be purged, as the Earth seeks to balance its systems. In the meantime, I hold that this is paradise. Beautiful to the point of perfection. Well worth fighting for. That fight is on now and its first major battle is 14 months away.

O.K. It's not that I'm against people getting their's, or against white people for that matter, and for the most part I really do think whites severely under appreciate all that they have, but I really didn't want to read this when I'm already looking for the end of the month and the next little pieces of money I get. I desperately need a new car to replace the one I have, frightened to death that it will break down on me, leaving me and my sis without means of transportation at all. That, for me, is a scary thought. The utility bills scare me, that damned broken washing machine has my nerves frayed, along with a whole host of other problems I never thought I'd be dealing with at this point in life.

Whites run the earth, having everything handed to them on a platter, from birth to death, never having to wonder what it would be like if they were in the shoes of a black person, never having to wonder where their next dime is coming from, their next job, nothing. I am at least glad to see that Baldwin appreciates all that he has. May he not come back as a poor black man or woman, for that matter. Perhaps if I were not a poor black woman with health problems, and was the cherished white, blond woman, who could get any job she wanted, or marry a white man to give her what she wanted, I might see things from a different perspective. Otherwise, I am more than happy and content with the skin I'm in, I just wish I could get some of what Baldwin has while I am in it.