Whatever Jimmy Carter says about the energy crisis, the summer of '77 does not look anything like the moral equivalent of war. Not for years, even decades, has the nation approached its vacation time in such a collectively peaceful disposition—a mood of relief, resignation, exuberant ease and a bit of hedonism. The season feels like something from the middle years of Eisenhower—or, since the '50s had the cold war and other bad weather, maybe the analogy should go farther back, to a vague, green period sometime in...
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