Correctly Impolitic

And they lived happily ever after? Are they going to the chapel and going to get married-oops they’re already married.  But isn’t unity wonderful?  If everything’s so great, where is Bill, the loving spouse?  Never mind.  Thank God they kissed and made up, now maybe old white women will vote for young black Barack. No more willthere be a great rush to support McCain. The Democratic Party will survive and grow strong.  Mark Penn and Mandy Grunwald will make their millions. Their children will be able to go to fancy Washington private schools. We will whip those Republicans in the Fall.  I seem to be whipping myself into a frenzy, so I’ll take a minute to calm down.

I don’t mean to be mean or cynical. Well, maybe I do.  But it’s great that all the Democrats have united around Obama.  Do you know if you change just one letter on the word united, it becomes untied.  Don’t look for anything sinister in that I just made a typing error and noticed it.  Anyway, it’s terrific that for a price (retiring her debt), Hillary is willing to campaign actively for Obama-or at least appear to support his candidacy.  I think she indicated in her speech that if  her debt were retired she would have more time to campaign for Obama.  I guess what bother’s me is not the actual retiring her debt,  but the fact that she used terrible judgment in her spending and incurred the debt with a group of talent free consultants, who despite their lack of competence are now rolling in dough.  It’s like the “Song That never Ends.  It will go on and on my friends.”

Dead is dead as my mother says, so let’s move on to something that bother’s me even more - the elimination of political positions in the government.  There was an article in the Washington Post last week that addressed the issue of Presidential transition and filling critical political appointments at the Department of Homeland Security and other agencies. There are a number of allotted political jobs in the Government. Political appointments are those the President gets to fill.  The President doesn’t really do it but the transition team, or White House personnel does.  Those jobs are usually given to donors, people who worked on the campaign, people with whom the candidate has a relationship, loyal Party people and maybe even some folks with a expertise in an issue area.  In the Bush Adminisration many jobs were given to people from Texas who unfortunately didn’t have a brain anywhere to be found.  Or friends of people from Texas who has similar mental capacity-you remember Katrina and Brownie - “You’re doing a great job Brownie”.

The article talked about how there should be Civil Servants trained to fill those jobs until the President’s political appointments are finalized and confirmed by the Senate if required.  Sounds sensible doesn’t it?  But aye here’s the rub (the pirate inference is intentional) or here’s the reality.  Political people can burrow-yes like rabbits.  They can secretly convert to civil service status. It takes a little time but it can happen.  So, suppose you are a political appointment at Homeland Security and you don’t want to leave your cushy job at the end of the President’s term  You will have had to think of this before (my guess is many have already done so), but you can convert from political to career employee. OK, so now you have a person who has converted, (it’s like being born a Catholic and deciding you want to be a Jew, but you don’t want to give up Christmas), from political to career in a job that was political but you need to fill it with a career appointee until there is a new President.  In other words you will have a Bush Republican in a job that should be held by a McCain Republican or an Obama Democrat.  The political appointment slot disappears and in it’s place is a career appointee who in their hearts remain loyal to George Bush.  Isn’t the American government great!

The problem is, as you can imagine, that the civil service hates political appointments. And why shouldn’t they?  Many politico’s, having spent years in the campaign trenches, fighting to get their candidate elected, come into Government thinking they know everything and the Civil Service personnel knows nothing.  They treat the civil servants like second class citizens.  In return, the civil servants make it as difficult as they can to implement change.  The career appointees love change in Administrations because it takes years for a new Presidential team to figure out how to do anything.  By the time they figure it out there’s another election and new people - unless political people burrow into slots that were political and become career.  I know none of this is easy. It took me years of government jobs at the highest levels to figure it out.  So here’s the bottom line.  The President gets to run the government with his or her (at some point) own people.  Unless their own people have not place to be.  Which might very well happen if George Bush’s people get to fill jobs prior to the next Presidential transition.  Oh My!

Have you ever heard the expression, “glass half full, toilet half empty”.  No?  I can’t imagine why. In the Burnett household it’s right there on our list of favorites. At least lately.  Here’s the genesis of the infamous expression.  A number of the water pipes in our 60 year old home have rotted big time.  We first noticed it when the ceiling in the bathroom on the first floor was showing signs of water damage.  “My oh my” we exclaimed with a bit of annoyance.

We called the ‘crack’ plumbing expert who was also a part of the contracting team when we redid our kitchen.  Actually he’s a handyman with plumbing expertise.  I don’t know if he has a license but he’s available and trustworthy. We asked him to take a look, which he did.  When he started shaking his head we knew there the news was bad and there were major problems.  We hoped for the best but I (as usual) expected the worst.  The worst was that the leaking pipes would require construction that would take the floor out of the bathroom on the second floor.  This floor is original tile.  You’ve seen it a million times.  It’s black and white and absolutely cannot be replaced.   He was going to try to do the work from the bottom instead of taking my wonderful antique tiles.

In the meantime, we were sitting in the kitchen when we noticed there were drops of water falling from the ceiling in the dining room.  “My oh my”, we opined again.  It turned out that the pipes in the clothing closet, that were adjacent to the shower in our bathroom, were not tightened properly When you showered you basically showered into the dining room.  That could be fixed. But wait, the toilet in our bathroom, unbeknown to me, was also having problems, in addition, the top of the toilet seat was broken.

I left town.  Dealing with toilets is not my thing and the handyman assured me everything would be done before my return-which was of course scheduled for when all the work was done. He did not tell me the truth.

Upon my return, the pipes were finished (without ruining the floor) but he had decided to repair 3 of the four toilets - without much success I might add, paint the bathroom and refinish the dining room  ceiling.  Did I mention that I was returning because I was having ten people for dinner as well as a guest from France and another from Southern Virginia.  It was not a good time for the house to be in chaos or without the bathrooms.

OK, I admit that I lost it.  The handyman is a darling sweet person who feels it necessary to explain all the work he is doing. I honestly don’t care about the work as long as when I flush the toilet I am successful.  But he wanted me to understand everything he had done and, by the way, he had broken the toilet upstairs - which was also not broken.  This wouldn’t have been an issue except that that toilet cost me a fortune because my last plumber found it in an old house  (the toilet was new), and it wasn’t one of those little bitty toilets which double as a water saving device.  OK, I am nuts about toilet issues, but I come by it honestly and genetically.

Moving on.  When I lost it, I had been assured everything was working, (I can’t be sure what I said but it was loud), but the handyman and his crew fled. Who would blame them for fleeing from a toilet lunatic shouting about who knows what - I won’t go into detail.  But back to the genesis.  I have been making honest and ongoing attempts to see things as glass half full. And I have been very successful. Well, pretty successful.  So I decided to look at this in a positive way and just think, glass half full - despite toilet half empty.  Yes, I inserted the addition verbage for literary purposes.

In keeping with the glass theme.  I Hope you noticed I was developing a glass theme. Yesterday I lost the  credit card I don’t use for business. The one I use for everything I buy for fun.  I searched my purse, my room, my car and every store to which I traveled during the day.  Alas and to no avail, (do you like the medieval voice?), I could not find it anywhere.  I knew I had to take serious measures.  I turned a glass over on the kitchen table.  (Are you confused?  Just think about what I must be.)  When I was growing up and my mother lost anything (from diamond ring to car keys), she would turn a glass over on the table and within a few hours-like magic-she would find the lost item.

You may doubt this but I tell you, it works.  I looked for the credit card for two days.  I mean, I tore everything in my possession apart.  An hour after the glass was turned, I found the card.  Yep, there it was in a place I had searched at least five times.

What does all this glass stuff mean?  If someone loses an election can they turn the glass over and find a win-if only that could happen.  Or can we look at politics with glass half full eyes-I guess it depends on the outcome of the election.  Or can should we just fill a glass, say a prayer, and hope for the best in life, politics, and when we have leaky toilets.
I have no answers but I can share this, never underestimate the power of a glass full empty or filled with some great wine.

How do you measure a life? The musical “Rent” asks, How do you measure, measure a year?  “In daylight, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, In inches, in miles in laughter in strife.”  But that’s only a year.  T.S. Elliot says in “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Proofrock that “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons”.   This is one of my favorite beautifully depressing poems about aging, how one spends their life, and the consequences of a lifetime of disappointment. I’m not sure either of these examples work in real life.

We are selling the house my mother lived in for 55 years.  It was where, as children and teens, we gathered to smoke cigarettes, get together for parties, and just to hang out. It was about three blocks from school so it was where we had lunch and recovered from romantic trauma.  It was a very important part of shaping the person I was because it was also the place my Dad could always be found.  Mom is living in Seattle and not strong enough to come back to the east so keeping and maintaining this memory filled historic site, doesn’t make much sense.

Yesterday I spent the day meeting with people who wanted to buy or sell the contents of  the house.  I am not sure what I expected.  There are so many valuable, or at least treasured items.  There are the family pictures and momento’s. I knew the dealers wouldn’t want those, so when they said it was not of interest to them, I was not suurpirsed. But there are at least 5 bedroom sets, 7 sets of dishes-and I mean complete sets.  Some are white with gold trim, some are white with silver trim.  Those cannot be used in the microwave because the trim is really metal.  Then there are special service for corn, and of course, the English china with the turkey pattern for Thanksgiving-does that make any sense? There are the everyday dishes from the apartment in Florida, the house in Boonton, and Aunt Sophie’s apartment before she married Mac. There are the kosher dishes for when Aunt Peppy visited and the old glass Passover plates.  There are dozens of sets of pots and pans and don’t even ask about the glassware.  On the list you should include 6 mattresses, lot’s of clothes, at least 50 tablecloths, hundreds of towels and sheets.  Just FYI, I have already given away at least 15 large black garbage bags full of clothing and shoes. Oye! and the chatcka’s-don’t get me started.

The question is, should we sell everything to an antique dealer who will clean out the house for $500, or leave the house a mess and let him take what he wants for $1000. Or should we have a house sale and pay a woman $800 to tag, mark and sell what she can and what she can’t sell we donate to I don’t know who - but I assume someone who needs it.   It is difficult to make the decision, not because we are going to make a ton of money, but because we are not. Basically, the money will be the same, about $700 to $1000, depending on the economy and how receptive people are to yard sales/auctions.

After the meetings I started to think about all the things I have accumulated over the years. The first thing I thought was, I would never leave my kids with this kind of clean-up, but my second thought was,  after so much life how could all her worldly possession have a price tag of about $600.  And I don’t think it’s any different for any of us.  We spend our lives collecting extraneous objects and when we are in the twighlight of our years, the value of all those things diminishes considerably. My mom doesn’t really care about things anymore, (although she was a real fashion plate and her clothes remain remarkable even by today’s standards.)  She’s very comfortable in her studio apartment with warm duds, the attention of my brother, sister-in-law, and niece, a few wonderful aides and three meals a day which she enjoys.  Based on her situation, I guess we do not measure a lifetime by the things we collect.

Artists like David can measure how they spent their lives by the work they produced.  Public servants can measure if they affected change or had an impact that made other people’s lives better.  Some people measure their lives by the children to whom they gave birth and their accomplishments.  Coffee spoons are out but I think I would like to measure my life like “Rent” in daylights, sunsets, rainstorms, and additionally, bike rides, books on tapes listened to, books, essays, or blobs/blogs written, mentoring young people, my kids, laughter brought to others and friendships made and retained. It’s just something to think about the next time you say, “I have to own that”.

“But what about my perpetual tumor?” My mother was very concerned about something we did not quite understand.  We were on our way to the eye doctor. “What  are you talking about?” Both my brother Jeff, and I had no idea where she was going with this question. “The tumor in my brain.  You know the tumor.”  She used almost an accusatory tone.  I wanted to say, “We haven’t been formally introduced to any tumor.”  But I didn’t because she was clearly upset.  “Do you mean the pituitary tumor?” Jeff asked.?  “Yes, that’s the one.”

Mom has had a small pituitary tumor for 50 years.  It is not something that needed attention for a long time and now it appears to have grown a little. There is nothing that we can do about given her age (88), and it is so slow growing that it will never impact on her health, however she only hears every one out of every ten words and the words she chose to hear were brain and tumor.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Jeff tried to reassure her.   “Sure”, she said absolutely not believing him.  When we arrived at the doctor’s office we decided that we should tell the doctor that mom was a bit of an hysteric and no matter what he saw when he examined her eyes, he should absolutely not say anything about a tumor.  He seemed to agree. So, imagine our surprise when he walked into the examination room and announced that  despite the TUMOR, she seemed to be in fine condition.  We looked at one another in shock.  Surely he couldn’t be that stupid!  Her reaction was predictable.  She looked like one of those Looney Tunes cartoons where their eyes widen and roll around in the sockets, while their ears grow and there are exclamation marks in the air above their heads.  It took us a long time to calm and convince her she was OK.  We were not sure why he did this but it probably had something to do with those ridiculous privacy laws.  What happened to the days when people did not have to have all the information.

Speaking of all the information, my niece is on her way from Bainbridge Island, in Washington State to Israel (The one in the Middle East).  She and Jordan were supposed to have a conversation a few months ago so we could arrange for her to spend a few days with us in New York before she returns home. “Supposed to” is the key here.   It is not going to happen because the girls never connected.  Here’s what I don’t get.  There are telephones, e-mail, computers, and face book.  There a billion ways to communicate and yet they never talked.

They both said, “I tried calling her about fifteen times and she didn’t answer.  I sent her a text, she didn’t reply.  I left a message on face book but never got a response.”

This makes no sense to me because I seem to be able to reach both of them by picking up a land line and pressing a 10 buttons.  Of course, as a consequence of caller id, they have to want to be reached. But let’s assume they do.  They love one another and they love spending time together so what’s the reason for the lack of a connect?  I watch Jordan talking to 12 people at a time when she’s on line.  I truly don’t know how she keeps track,  She obviously prefers to text or IM so if I text her I usually get a message back.  (Usually is the operative phrase here.) And she is not alone.  We have moved away from face to face communication, first to verbal communication (phones) and now visual communication (texting/web sites). All of the above does not bode well for the future of getting people to vote. It seems that convenience far outweighs personal contact.  If they (this is the greater ‘they’) are online they might answer an e-mail.  If they have their phones and are not distracted by something else, they might call you back.  If they can vote absentee or it’s not raining, they might actually go to the polls. I hope I am not being to harsh but we saw this in 2004.  Kids were motivated and registered in droves. But they just never made it back to vote in the general election.  And the results - George Bush.

Back to the future.  Last week I had a conversation with a college student who wants to major in journalism.  When I said I thought the newspaper business and news in general was a dying business, she laughed.  She doesn’t want to write for a newspaper or magazine-that’s yesterday’s journalism.  She wants to get involved with new technologies like blogs, online broadcasting, writing news that can be accessed on an iphone and internet websites.  “There are so many possibilities” she said. I reluctantly agreed. Not ‘reluctantly’ because I don’t like the look of the future, but I do mourn the loss of personal contact - the necessity for actually speaking to or seeing someone to discuss something.   This kind of communication was not only effective, it was fun.  When you worked for a candidate and had to talk to a gas station employee on one day, and the Chairman of the State Party the next, it tested your ability to be fluent on a variety of issues. It also tested your social skills.  Could you be equally articulate and convincing about the same issue with people who might disagree with one another, or the candidate’s position.  My fear is that with all the massive amount of controlled impersonal communication channels, and the shrinking access to the actual candidate, we might elect people who are terrific– if the news is overwhelming and remote, but they are serious duds in their ability to be leaders.

There is a fine line between the reality, convenience, and consequences, of today’s technologies. It would be great if candidates had to meet every voter in America-which hopefully would be more than 40% — then follow up with enormous amounts of additional stuff.  To some degree that happens in primaries, and in debates.  The one on one is healthy, likely to be more accurate and important. And it is equally important not to be distracted by unsubstantiated information we receive through a  third party technology that is used to fill in the blanks.  People will vote if they have a vested interest.  If the vest becomes unbuttoned, they will simply stay home and not even bother to hit reply.

If there is something you would like to do, don’t put it off. Do it right away. Don’t wake up one morning and say, “Why didn’t I do that when I thought about it?” Last week I wrote about my pal Stewart Mott. He was a great friend who helped me through some very tough times. Yesterday I saw in the New York Times that he had passed away. Just in case you missed it I’d like to share some of the parts I think he would have liked the best. Some of it is quoted directly and with some I took a little liberty.

(Stewart was) a philanthropist whose gifts to progressive and somewhat offbeat causes were often upstaged by his eccentricities… Irreverent, good-looking and effusive, Mr. Mott seemed tailor made for the 60’s and 70’s… Mr. Mott seemed to relish poking his finger I the eye of GM, a company that is father helped to shape (and was later the largest stockholder.) Mr. Mott officially told the election commission that his job was “maverick”. He listed himself as “philanthropist” in the Manhattan phone book - he preferred ‘avant-garde philanthropist’ but space was limited… In 1971 he told the New Yorker that his “philanthropy is hearty, robust and full-bodied but it still needs a few years of aging before it will develop fully”… When the Washington Post reported that he had slept with 40 women over an eight month period, he issued a correction saying it was only 20.

Despite the relationship to GM when Stewart drove, it was usually a Volkswagen. Additionally, he gave me a Volkswagen as a gift in 1977. I had just been appointed as the Director of the International Visitors Program at the State Department. Because I was a new Carter appointee and one of the youngest people in such a high level job, I had a parking space in the building. (This was a real perk). I was new to Washington ways and the job, and naïve doesn’t begin to describe my expectations. Anyway, The Washington Post, which actually did good gossip in those days, wrote a piece about the car/gift. I was mortified, maybe horrified when Stewart called me to say he had seen the piece and thought it wonderful that I had become the “talk of the town” at such an early stage in my international career. He convinced me not only to laugh about it but to understand that this was the kind of thing that gave you access to a Washington that could actually be fun.

Stewart had been battling cancer for years. I knew he was sick and I thought about him quite frequently. I wanted to talk to him, but time passed and I was lazy about locating him. We reconnected a few weeks ago. He wasn’t strong enough to come to the phone the first time I called so I left a message. Within minutes he called me back. He shared that he might have to beg off but he did want to catch up. We had a number of phone calls where we talked about old times, parties at the Trust, Bermuda trips, vacations, the kids, what was going on in our lives and, of course, the election. He did ask my indulgence on a number of calls when he felt too weak to go on, but his spirit was never weak-just his body.

The last time we talked he asked if I could come and see him. I had only one or two days left before I had to go to Boston, DC, and Seattle. I very much wanted to see him and I promised him I would call and come up as soon as I got back in the middle of June. He said I could take the train, and since neither of us had our Volkswagens anymore, he would send someone to pick me up at the station. The calls were loving and affectionate, and I was looking forward to my return so we could finally get together. But he didn’t live long enough for me to take the Metro North to what I think was the Mott estate in Westchester.

What a dope I was. I should have gotten on the train and gone when I had a few hours. After all those years of absence and finally reconnecting, I didn’t get to say goodbye to my dear friend.

I always used to say that I didn’t want to die on a plane where someone more famous than myself was killed because the reports would be “Mr/Ms famous was killed today) and there would be a long glorious obit at the end of which would be, “also dead…”
So I don’t mean to slight him in anyway, but Tim Russert also died yesterday. I knew Tim for many years but we weren’t friends. He was a great guy who made the transition from political staff to reporter without having told insider secrets and without having to throw anyone he worked for under a bus. He was smart, articulate, full of humor and insightful about life and the world. There are hundreds of people who are much more qualified to talk about Tim than I. Although they were certainly very different, Tim and Stewart did share a love of politics, justice and this country. The world lost two great souls yesterday. May they both rest in peace (Stewart always wanted peace).

“I can’t control what other people do”. That’s what McCain said today when asked if he would admonish people who said despicable things about Obama.  (These are not direct quotes but I put them in quotes because it’s what I would do if I was writing fiction and someone said something worth quoting.)  What does “I can’t control or I can’t stop them” mean?  It means the general election will be very ugly. David has been with McCain for a day and a half and he says “this guy will be very hard to beat”  That’s actually a direct quote.

Every four years a few elected officials decide they want to be President of the United States.  And every four years political junkies, sign on to a campaign and try to try to get them elected. Sometimes the people surrounding the candidate have high ideals and a centered moral core.  Sometimes the campaign staff and consultants are a little too Machiavellian for my taste. The end cannot justify the means when the end means the we are left with a lie.

I am always disheartened by an ugly campaign, but if the proverbial gloves have come off, Democrats can’t be afraid to punch with bare fists. (The second sports analogy I have ever written-does it work?) The question is, can you punch with a bare fist without hurting your own knuckles?  Probably not. Confused?  So am I. But I think this is where I am going with this, In 1992, having decided not to move to Arkansas, I took the gloves off and designed my own special campaign for the general election cycle.  We sent serious messages about why George Bush One (doesn’t that sound a bit too British) shouldn’t be President again - the way we delivered the message was always humorous.  And here on my blog, and for the first time, I will confess that yes, I crafted the incredibly hilarious counter events operation of the 1992 Presidential campaign.

Many will not remember the counter events operation.  Probably because we were so subtle.  We were the group that sent chickens out to haunt George Bush Senior when he wouldn’t debate  Bill Clinton.  Oh yes, we had chickens at every Bush event. Usually they would enter in a chicken costume and sign around their neck that proclaimed, “poultry dealers for Bush.”  But once inside they would turn the sign over and it would say,  “Bush is a chicken to debate”-or something equally creative.  This lasted for only a short time because the chickens started to annoy the President and he yelled at one  at an event in Pennsylvania. Yes,  the President actually yelled at the chicken.  It was not until the President of the United States started to converse with poultry that anyone realized the chickens might be a coordinated effort.  But once the words were out, the President could do nothing but agree on a time and venue for a debate.  It was not easy to get the effort off the ground but, here’s the first memo we sent to Clinton supporters once we decided we would be activists in sending a “Why George Bush Shouldn’t Be President” message.  We consider this out initial launch effort in September 1992:

Last week, when it became clear that the first debate was not a certainty, we remembered the old John Lindsay- George Wallace debate conflict in 1972 –the theme was chickens.  They did things we can no longer do because we have to protect the dignity of a living chicken — so we’re planning to use chicken paraphernalia.  We will provide to working staff, someone young enough not to faint from the weight in the heat,  a head to toe chicken suit with the character wearing a sign like “too chicken to debate” or a  duck wearing a sign exclaiming; “Bush is ducking the issue”.

We determined chickens were funnier but an occasional duck did make an appearance.  Once determined to see a successful effort, we sent a note to friends/activists, every state asking for suggestions. New Hampshire had a terrific idea which was made even better when  then Governor Clinton said, “despite the fact that George Bush is refusing to show up,  I am still going to Lansing.”  They decided that they would hold “Debate Wait” parties instead of “Debate Watch Parties.”  We thought we should all wait for George Bush to stop ducking the debate. At these events voters would participate in pin the tail on the Quayle and other “Party building” games.

And so it began, with a series of  costumed characters, (Witch George Bush) t-shirts with faces (The Harry Truman Truth Squad), mini events (the economy on a hospital gurney) and oh so much more, played out near whatever the press area  in President Bush’s events. For the length of the campaign.  I say, let the gloves come off. The Republicans can take the low (ugly) road and we will take the high (funny) road, and we will always get there before ‘ye.’

Don’t you just hate it when you write two pages of anything, and then you sit back and, for seemingly no reason, it disappears off your computer screen.  The first thing you do it hit ‘paste’, because you think you might have inadvertently hit  ‘cut’.  Sure enough, it pastes but not what you had lost.  Then you think, I should have saved while I was writing-what a dope I am. But it’s too late for regrets.  The imagined poetry that flowed from your mind to your lips to your fingers is just a memory. (Excuse me while I hit ‘save’).

There are those people who believe that women and people of color are not capable of leading this country.  (They have been proved wrong many times as exampled in other nations). But these are the same people who think that the earth is flat and the world was created in seven days.   It seems a bit shortsighted, even silly, but there are those people.

Today I was on a TV show with a Republican analyst named Bruce Blakeman. (Not one of those seven day poof, people and I’d like to fix him up with my cousin). He has been involved in lots of NY politics, but I didn’t know who he was until the producer said his ex wife is dating Paul McCartney.  Bruce is smart and handsome and wants to be the mayor of NY.  (Which could happen because he knows the world is round.) What was most interesting was that he talks directly from the Republican script.  John McCain is bi-partisan, John McCain is courageous, Barack is the most liberal Senator in the universe.  Liberal, is not a dirty word to me so the argument was moot or mute, but you can see exactly what they are going to do and say in the fall. They are starting to position McCain as the only logical choice.  lIke a comfortable shoe (when my shoes get comfortable it’s because they are falling apart). I mentioned that despite his support of bipartisan legislation, McCain was not a moderate.  He was very Conservative.  When you try to make an argument where you disagree, they talk right over you or say your name repeatedly, like “well Iris…”  So you just have to say things like “that’s not true” or “you are so wrong”.  There is no comeback for a declarative statement.  (I didn’t take him on about the economy because we had five minutes and that’s a two week discussion).  My point is that people like Bruce are not easily dismissed because they are likeable and appear to be reasonable.  (Wait, I have to hit save again).

Speaking of reasonable, (I know we weren’t but it’s a nice transition),  yesterday I had
A conversation with some African American friends.  One told me that she was riding in a cab the other day and her Black cab driver, (without actually asking him) offered some thoughts about the election.  “That Obama, he ain’t got any Negro blood. His momma was white and his father was an African.  He ain’t got any Negro blood-like me.  I’ll vote for him, but he ain’t me.  My other friend, who  immigrated from Trinidad said something along the same line.  “I wanted Hillary. She knows about my problems.  She’s a woman and she knows about how hard we have to work.  Obama doesn’t understand what we go through every day.  He’s black, but he’s not me.”

This morning I listened to the talking heads talking about the campaign and still wondering what happened in the meeting between Clinton and Obama.  All I could think was, does it matter what they said exactly. We know they talked about the debt and her role at Convention.  I doubt they talked about the VP’s job because he has to make the decision based on what will give him the biggest boost for the election, and anyway, I don’t think it’s a job she wants.  I could be wrong but Hillary is an activist and the Vice President’s role is certainly not that.  They also talked about why she lost the primaries.  These people get paid a lot of money to say nothing - I wish it were me.  It’s not brain surgery.  The Clinton’s ran a foolish, arrogant campaign.  You cannot be in a Presidential contest assuming you are the likely choice, or in this case, the anointed nominee. You actually have to plan to be in the race until the primaries are over-which happens in June not February. Additionally, you cannot write off the caucus states. For someone who claimed to want every vote counted, this was not the Clinton attitude until they were loosing.  Here’s the irony, the campaign was bad when it counted, but she found a great many people (Democrats and Republicans) who thought “Hillary is me”.  Barack ran a great campaign when it counted, but working people (across color lines — the people Obama needs to win in the General) are now thinking “he’s not me”.  So, what can he do?

The answer is not to put Hillary on the ticket. The answer is…  not to underestimate the amount of work he has to do.  And the first step is to think about the kind of person, not just candidate he needs to be.  He’s not Bobby Kennedy.  Bobby touched people-physically as well as emotionally.  Obama is only halfway there. He’s not Ronald Reagan, who connected with what middle class people were feeling.  He certainly doesn’t want to be Michael Dukakis, John Kerry or the now beloved Al Gore. All fine politicians who, it was obvious,  never understood what working class people were suffering.  (Bush unfortunately fooled people into believing he did).  Obama has to get comfortable connecting with blue collar working folks and the women who supported Hillary.  In order to win in November he needs to get to the place where people will actually think, “he is me”.

What will Hillary do? Will she ever drop out?  Will she be the Vice Presidential candidate? Will she go back to the Senate and become what Teddy Kennedy would want her to be - a real leader. I don’t think anyone can predict her future - or the next few days.  If I had been her campaign manager I would have suggested she fly to Minneapolis, appear with Obama and endorse him, then fly to NY or Washington and appear with her constituency.  She didn’t and I’m not her manager and they are not as smart as me.

What went wrong?  All one needs to do is see who is still appearing for her.  Terry McAuliffe is still haranguing the media about their treatment of the First Lady,  He was on TV this morning talking about awaiting his marching orders. What marching orders.  He is one of the people who has been calling the shots for quite some time.  He’s the Chair of the campaign.  What kind of marching does he do?  I’d like to see him appear dressed in one of those marching bandleader outfits carrying a baton. That is a perfect fit. Terry is a slime. And I don’t mean to denigrate bandleaders with this kind of association. I was going more for the picture than the profession.  (and I mean slime in the nicest possible way).

Part of the problem is that all those people close to her thought the campaign would be over in February. I guess they have suspended both reality and the calendar in hopes that something will happen to change the outcome of the primaries. Otherwise what are the benefits of waiting until who knows when, to do who knows what.

Here’s what I find most interesting about this whole thing.  Hillary knows what it’s like to be the Vice President.  At least she understands how the President’s people treat the Vice President’s people.  She has been there for the decision making process.  She has seen who gets stuck with what and how decisions that are made in the Vice President’s office have to be vetted by the President’s office.  She knows first hand about who gets stuck with whatever the President doesn’t care to do. In the Clinton Administration the President allowed Vice President Gore to ‘reinvent’ government.  I’m still not sure what the overall impact of the reinvention had on actual cost or resource savings.  I do know that they gave away a great many tiny hammers as rewards for supposedly finding better ways to do things, but I’m not even sure the ways were better.  For example, the Vice President’s office decided that it was foolish for the United States Information Agency to be independent from the State Department - they both involved international diplomacy so why not combine them?  The fact that the cultures (USIA decisions were made in a timely manner because they involved people to people diplomacy, and State Dept. decisions required weeks of clearance because their impact was government to government), didn’t matter to the ‘reinventors’ (I know their names if you want them).  There were no cost or personnel savings.   In fact, it was quite the opposite.  This reinvention, which combined all the jobs in the geographic area offices, rendered the U.S. Government without a public diplomacy effort. And look at the results- the rest of the world hates us.  You see, USIA officers spoke the language of the country to which they were posted.  State officers usually did not.  The USIA officers worked with the local media  organizations, and managed educational and cultural exchanges.  Jobs the State officers found beneath contempt. (Are you getting the picture?) I don’t want to blame the Vice President’s office entirely; Jesse Helms-that great Statesman and bigot, in cohoots with Madeline Albright, who was the Secretary of State, is responsible for allowing and encouraging it to happen.  She wanted USIA resources - the cars and drivers, and people and programs to be part of her empire.  But had it not been for the West Wing  trying to find the Vice President a real job, we might have an easier time functioning in the world. And maybe some people must have gotten little hammers to treasure.

My point is this.  Why would Hilary want to be in a pretty much do-nothing job.  Yes, you get to act as the President of the Senate and break ties, but she’s already a Senator and she knows that this is pretty much meaningless.  The VP’s plane isn’t as nice, the motorcade isn’t as long, the President’s kids don’t talk to your kids - although I guess Chelsea could babysit.  So why would you go from the possibility of being a Teddy Kennedy to being a … I can’t even remember their names.  Why would you knowingly desire to be Second Fiddle to anyone. Maybe her indicating that it’s a job she wants is just a ruse to actually get something she wants.  I don’t know what that can be but I assume the mystery will be solved by the time Convention rolls around … or maybe she’ll just keep running.

The other day I got a fairly disturbing phone call from a friend. It seems after 30 years of marital bliss her husband confessed to having an affair.  The only reason he confessed was that God smote him with a sexually transmitted disease.  She was devastated, heartbroken, angry and sad.  He told her it had nothing to do with her-he was having a midlife crisis.  But then, as men often do-he felt like he needed to tell her more.  TMI!  He told her that the woman was younger and he wanted to have fun.  Something he obviously couldn’t do with her-or at least that’s what he thought. TMI!  She called to find out what she should do.  My first impulse was to tell her to plunge a knife through his heart - not far enough to kill him but certainly far enough to make him feel the same kind of pain she was feeling.  Then I thought about this despicable woman who had changed their lives forever.  Not because she had unprotected sex with the dope, but because she didn’t have the courtesy, the honesty, the integrity, to tell him she had herpes.  Who would do something like that?  What kind of a self centered, immoral, perfidious, slut would do that?  But I guess I just answered my own question-a self centered, immoral, perfidious slut.  (And I mean that in the nicest possible way.)  I responded to my pal,  “I don’t think I know what to say right now?”  In these situations any advice you give is dangerous.  Keeping quiet may be the only route to take.  But you’re a friend, what should you do?

This was not the first time I had heard a story this tragic.  And tragic is a good word because seemingly connected people, disconnect briefly, and may never recover. It’s horrible to think about the number of women with whom I have had this conversation. It’s equally horrible to think it could happen to any of us.  Sometimes we delude ourselves about this, especially when things are going particularly well or particularly terrible. We know too well that good times eventually go away and bad times usually get better.  Anyway, I know she wouldn’t have been happy to hear, “these things happen, things will get better, don’t worry”.  No one needs platitudes when they are distraught. (Platitudes are seriously annoying in the best of times-they border on criminal when things are bad).   People think they have a solid marriage and they trust their spouse unconditionally and then bam, without any warning something slaps you upside the head and you are down for the count. (Wow, I’m using a sports analogy). There is someone younger or perkier and why not opt for that instead of the boring reality of thirty years of together. The story is unfortunately always the same. The ‘husband’ tells you he loves you but…TMI!  It’s not about you, it’s about their midlife crisis or looking for fun.  But not with you.  TMI!  It seems they’ve had enough fun with you.  They might rather share the laughs past and to come with someone who thinks everything they say is funny or witty, or important.  TMI! They have more in common with this other person. It’s too much work with you and really, it’s too tiring.  You make demands. The newer person makes love. TMI! How can you compete.  You can’t. (She wouldn’t want to hear this either).

The kids are grown, the house is dirty, the parents almost dead, the life is ordinary. Oh no, the life isn’t ordinary, but it’s old and so are you. TMI!  Time to move on.  You don’t have a choice.  You can’t get young or cuter or better.  You can’t… Oh my.  The future will bring some happiness but some sadness as well.  Doesn’t  he want to share the bad times as well as the good anymore?  Not if he has an options.  Who would?   He wants to look elsewhere for the good times.  TMI!  You can be there for the difficult, but it’s likely you will suffer them by yourself.  You make it look too easy– you can do anything.  You will likely do it alone.  He will look elsewhere for the fun.  What can you do.  You would like to think something but he says again, it’s not about you.  You can’t get young, you probably can’t get better, you can’t … How sad, and frightening, and lonely.  And you can’t … (More stuff not to say to a good friend).

When my first marriage ended it was devastating — even though it was clear our lives were moving in different directions.  That end was painful, but wasn’t unexpected. I didn’t want to stay married and live a life that no longer made sense to either of us. And although it was complicated; I was afraid of change, afraid of what would happen to my child, afraid of being on my own, and afraid that I was not going to be able to make any other life.   I had only been married a few years.  Imagine what it must be like to disengage after 20, 30, or 40 years.  (I didn’t want to share that either).

Living in my car and using the Hyatt on Capital Hill as the place where I cleaned up every morning, was dangerous, but even that wasn’t as disconcerting as the idea of doing my own taxes and having to take my car to be inspected.  Isn’t that stupid.  It was the simple things that amplified the sense of loss.  I was a kid and kids are stupid-but they bounce back far more easily than women of a certain age.  I thought my marriage back then,  good or bad, I thought for a long time that it was not going anywhere.  I was wrong.  But how do you say to a friend, “You know that marriage you thought was forever, well nothing is forever”.  You don’t.  The only thing that makes any sense in the realm of what to say can only be said to yourself and it is… “there but for God go I.”