Finally, someone with a soul, and without a pathetically cynical agenda has some things to say about the Wellstone service:

And so it came to pass. They came wearing jackets with the names of Indian reservations on them. They came in VFW caps and they came in traditional costumes from Africa and Asia. They came in union jackets and they came in wheel chairs. They came leaning on canes or carrying children bundled against the cold. They came and filled the old basketball barn to the rafters, spilling over into the women's sports pavilion, spilling out on the street, hugging, crying, laughing and applauding. Who ever had a better funeral?

Tuesday night's memorial for Paul and Sheila Wellstone and those who went down with them Friday was a combination funeral, campaign rally and old-time religious revival that kept the faithful in their seats for five hours but served its purpose by turning tears into a foot-stomping reaffirmation of the cause of their fallen leader.

As a demonstration of public grief — and as pure theater — I've never seen anything like it in Minnesota. And unless you are as old as Walter Mondale, you haven't, either. This was a raucous and rollicking people's farewell, an avalanche of grief and pride on the behalf of the countless thousands who, since Friday, had been waiting to let their hair down. Paul probably knew most of them by name. And he would have been proud of them last night. In line, inside the arena or on the streets, the people offered eulogies that came from the heart.

(link via the horse)