Today is another post by my daughter Courtney.  I was peaking over her shoulder as she was writing an essay for a college application and asked her if I could post it.  She said yes! 

 

      The Iowan paraphernalia lining the walls of Senator Tom Harkin’s office made me feel right at home. For the past six months I had been adjusting to life in the big city. Having moved from rural Iowa for my junior year of high school, I was convinced that living in our nation’s capitol would provide incredible insight into the political process. Living in Washington D.C. would prove more beneficial than even my high-sighted goals had assumed.

      As an intern to one of my father’s idols, I was afforded the time of my life. I had it in mind that I would shake the hands of, or at least get coffee for, the men and women that I had watched on CNN all of my life. Before I could make any major changes to the political realm of the United States of America, though, I had to learn the inner workings of the mailroom. The left side of the room was dedicated to direct contact with the Harkin staff, and the other to constituents’ requests and commentary. Within the former section I would sort things like news briefs, Congressional Records, and memorandums from Senators and Representatives. The space was organized in such a way that one entire wall was covered by a grid of size-adjustable boxes. These were constructed with thick, interlocked sheets of plastic. They epitomized the office effect.

      It was here that I felt most empowered. I, an idealistic, small town girl, was dealing directly with constituents. I was Iowa’s link to its beloved Senator. Solving poverty in the urban sectors of the country and securing positive relations with the Middle East would have to wait, because I had my fellow Iowans to look out for. In my eyes, every issue was equally important. When Adam in Fairfax angrily wrote to Tom about the lack of stoplights in his community, I put his letter in the black box labeled Transportation with as much precedence as when fifty members of “Mother’s Against Drunk Driving” wrote in to thank the Senator for his support. The perks of the job were when Sue from Dubuque wrote about her daughter’s commencement as a Girl Scout, and when Richard wrote in each week just to say good job.

      During my time at the office, March through June of 2006, the heated Immigration Debate was unfolding on the Senate floor. Letters poured in from all over the world. The first hour of each intern’s every day was devoted to sorting through mass mailings from the far reaches of the country. It was at these times that sorting the mail became a far greater complexity than I had ever imagined.

      One afternoon I was struck by an epiphany of sorts. I was up to my ankles, quite literally, in letters regarding agricultural appropriations, and grant requests. The majority of the interns had been busy all week abiding to the tasks handed to us; I with my Native American Issues assignment and Chris with his Foreign Affairs filings. The others were running to and fro to meet the demands of the punctuated schedule that was thrust upon the Senator each week. We had fallen drastically behind on our mailroom duties. When the day’s second wave of mail arrived, over three hundred freshly post-marked letters from the home state found their way into my arms. Each expressed congratulation or hesitation with the Senator’s progress on the Immigration Reform. As refreshing as it was to have such a vocal response to the business on the Hill, I was momentarily at a loss for what to do. The contents of the already overcrowded Immigration box had yet to be sorted, scanned, and sent to the appropriate legislative assistants. Because moving the new letters to a distant, less-chaotic countertop would entail running the risk of their disposal, I had to find a way to fit them into their box until I could prepare them for the next step in the process. My only option was to restructure the alphabetically arranged shelves. I maneuvered the plastic sheet labeled Homeland Security up, and Immigration’s other vertical neighbor, Insurance, down. I situated each of these horizontal slates so that the height of the Immigration box could accommodate its patrons. Consequentially, the surrounding boxes were significantly downsized.      

After nearly an hour I had tamed the calamity of the mailroom. I stepped back for a moment to admire the pristine countertop. Then it hit me: The transformation of the immigration box came at the expense of space originally allotted to other initiatives. The compromise hardly seemed just. Concerns about Homeland Security would be put on the back burner until the fervor over Immigration died down, and attentions over Insurance would be arrested until a more convenient time.

Such is the nature of politics. Working for Senator Tom Harkin granted me the necessary skills for working in an office, the proper etiquette when addressing persons of power, and a better understanding of Capitol Hill. Most intrinsically, though, I learned that establishing sound policy is about give and take, while simultaneously defending against inequality.

            Once in a while you get a forwarded email that resonates and you just have to pass it on.  Okay, some of you feel that way with nearly every email you get but I’m here to tell you, in my case it is the rare exception.  I got this one today and couldn’t resist sending it on to a few close friends.

 

Dear Abby,

I've never written to you before, but I really need your advice on what could be a crucial decision. I've suspected for some time now that my wife has been cheating on me.  The usual signs... phone rings but if I answer, the caller hangs up. My wife has been going out with the girls a lot recently although when I ask their names she always says, "Just some friends from work, you don't know them."

I always stay awake to look out for her taxi coming home, but she always walks down the drive. Although I can hear a car driving off, as if she has gotten out of the car round the corner. Why? Maybe she wasn't in a taxi? I once picked her cell phone up just to see what time it was and she went berserk and screamed that I should never touch her phone again and why was I checking up on her.

Anyway, I have never approached the subject with my wife. I think deep down I just didn't want to know the truth, but last night she went out again and I decided to really check on her. I decided I was going to park my Harley Davidson motorcycle next to the garage and then hide behind it so I could get a good view of the whole street when she came home. It was at that moment, crouching behind my Harley, that I noticed that the valve covers on my engine seemed to be leaking a little oil.

Is this something I can fix myself or should I take it back to the dealer?

Thanks,

Bob

 

            The author of that letter would surely meet my criteria of “a Harley Guy.”  While you might find the letter facetious or even absurd I’m here to tell ya when it comes to the relationship between a man and his Harley very often the relationship between a man and a woman can become unintentionally tested.  Take my case for example; Please!  If you are or if you know a successful family law attorney I may have a few rather personal questions I need to ask.  (Just kidding Dear!)  My story begins on April 6^th 1995.  I got a call from Metro Harley Davidson in Cedar Rapids, Iowa telling me that someone had just cancelled on their delivery.  If I was interested, the two tone red Heritage Classic was available but I would need to decide right away because they had a long list of people who would want it.  I had been trying and praying for two years just to get on a dang waiting list for a new Harley so I wasted little time in calling “She Who Must Be Obeyed”.  It was only due to my well practiced art of denial and sheer unmitigated gall that I was able to ask her to meet me at the dealership and suggest that she had darn well best be quick about it. 

            It was love at first sight.  I wrote a check and only then sat on the bike to see how it fit.  It fit fine. The only problem in my world at that moment was the temperature outside was a chilly forty degrees and it was raining.  I don’t know about how other guys would have done it but there was no way I was not going home with that bike that very night.  At about the moment I considered the fact that I had not worn a jacket and that it would be a frigid ride to my home in the country; the owner of the dealership read my mind and asked if I would like him to deliver the bike via enclosed trailer.  Oh yeah!  Immediately my mind considered which blanket “She Who Must Be Obeyed” would allow me to use for warmth as I curled up beside my new ride in the garage that night.  We lead the precious caravan to our home and anxiously awaited the grand unloading.  The kids ran out of the house and my lovely spouse, the dealer and I stood at the back of the trailer.  The moment and the excitment of it all got to be too much for me and I heard myself blurt, “Truly, this is the greatest day of my life.” 

            You know, there are times in one’s life that you can reflect upon and only describe as buzz killing.  The night my first Harley was delivered and I unintentionally slighted the significance of those that I love most in the whole world was one such night.  In unison, as all of the magic of the moment tangibly vanished from the air, I felt the scornful and betrayed eyes of my wife and children fall upon me.  The dealer kind of smirked and turned his head.  Maybe he had witnessed this scene before and he wanted none of us to notice the ironic hilarity he envisioned in me trying to weasel my way out of uttering those thoughtless words.  Moments like that never seem to die gracefully.  My wife was home last weekend to attend the kid’s high school homecoming events and the story was brought up again.  A vast chasm was cut into the delicate fabric of our family that cold and rainy night in 1985.  I suppose, after more than a decade, one should consider forgiving the offending party for such an innocent reaction.  It was, after all, a mere slip of the tongue which was borne from the excitement of a realized lifetime dream.  It’s just that a guy only gets a Harley for the first time once in his life.  My families reaction to that comment spoiled that very personal and poignant moment for me.  I may forgive them some day but it’s going to take some more time.

 

          I was leaning back in my official blog writing office chair drinking a Pepsi this evening and the label on the soda bottle claimed that I had a one in seven chance of winning a free pop!  Woohoo!  You could have cut the tension in the air with a knife as I anxiously twisted off the potentially winning cap.  DAMN!  I was not a winner.  The cap however must have been some new fangled technological marketing ploy because it said “try again.”  I did.  I still didn’t win.  I have now capped and recapped that bottle 37 times and I have still not won a free pop.  Truth in marketing demands that they either change the label or perhaps they should not encourage us to continue trying.  Obviously this new fangled technological marketing idea has some kinks to be worked out. 

          I’m not about to become bitter over the beginnings of the blister that is forming on my right thumb as a result of my manic pursuit of the free Pepsi.  You see there is still something in this world known as brand loyalty.  Pepsi Cola has mine.  No matter how screwed up this world gets I will always have the calming reassurance that certain things in my life will remain constant.  Those things are Harley-Davidson motorcycles, Skippy peanut butter, Heinz catsup and Charmin toilet paper.  

          The reason I chose Harley-Davidson is obvious.  I never want to be one of those guys who rides up on a Royal Star, a Gold Wing or a Vulcan and have to explain that I could have bought a Harley but yadda, yadda, yadda.  You never hear a Harley guy giving the old justification speech for his ride.  A Harley guy can be riding the biggest piece of crap that ever limped down the highway but he will be proud of it.  I know there are guys out there who had a Harley but now ride a metric bike but mark my words they still will give the speech.  And those guys weren’t really Harley guys when they owned one or they would own one now.

          Pepsi, Skippy and Heinz are just a matter of taste and consistency.  Those products have always been a part of my life and I like em.  I’ve tried competitive brands, budget brands and exotic brands of those products and I’m old and crotchety by now and I know what I like.  It’s not like I would refuse a Coke if I were thirsty and no Pepsi was available.  I wouldn’t leave your barbeque if you put Hunt’s catsup on the table and I most certainly would not take look disdainfully upon you and smugly refuse your offer of another brand of peanut butter if I were starving to death.  I have been known to get back in my car and go to the next store if the business I am shopping in does not carry the specific brands of which I have referred however.  The old adage of brand loyalty stops at ten cents off just does not apply when it comes to my pop, my catsup or my peanut butter.  So I got that going for me.

          Toilet paper on the other hand… When you think about the intimate functionality of such a necessary and simple product I believe no holds should be barred in demanding the high quality, strong and yet soft absorbent quality of Charmin.  One of the biggest grievances I have with the owner of the floor that we lease office space in is their myopic and insensitive refusal to surrender to my demand for Charmin toilet paper.  They opt for some cut-rate, abrasive, non-absorbent and most horrifically flimsy paper out of sheer financial considerations.  I think that is part of what is wrong with America today.  We have lost sight that some things are just more important than money.  Our office landlord doesn’t seem to think so.  What do you bet he’s a flaming Republican?  I am always careful to do a certain personal business at home because I’m not quite sure the VP in my office would be understanding if I told him I had to leave for a half an hour because I had to go home to take a crap.  That’s just the way I roll.  

          Why do I have the feeling that today’s post was a touch of “too much information”?  Hey, happy Hump Day.  Don’t forget to set out your red shirt to wear on Friday.  We need to support the troops!  If you were missing my typical political rant today please visit my sister blogger.

          Gee, I wonder if Republicans will consider the actions and obvious implications of Rep. Mark Foley as abhorrent and unforgivable as they did Bill Clinton’s sexual transgressions.   Of particular interest to me regarding this story was how fast the GOP spin machine reached full speed in their allegations of how horrible it is that Democrats were looking to politicize the fact that a prominent Republican had been caught with his pants down (figuratively) as a predatory pedophile.  It seems to be a recurrent theme amongst the ranks of the GOP of late.  For GOP leaders to expect mercy in this situation while you still hear Monica Lewinski references made on a daily basis seems to be the utmost of hypocrisy.  The Armchair Subversive website posted, yesterday, a very long and troubling list of over sixty recent prominent Republican pedophile scandals.  I’m going to print that list and carry it with me always.  The next time somebody mentions Monica Lewinski I am just going to hand them that list and walk away.

          The biggest tragedy in all of this is that very little concern has been shown for the victim or family in the Mark Foley incident.  The fact that the Republican leadership has known that Mark Foley has been suspected of inappropriate communications with young male pages since 2001 and did nothing to protect them from his sickness speaks volumes of the party of family values.  The fact that they had hoped to keep this most recent incident covered until after the mid-term elections and now accuse Democrats of politicizing the whole affair is stupefying!  “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Lord Acton, 1887

          Rep. Mark Foley is now being investigated for violation of a law that he helped write as co-chairman of the Congressional Missing and Exploited Children's Caucus.  "Republican leaders admitted to knowing about Mr. Foley's abhorrent behavior for six months to a year and failed to protect the children in their trust," said Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi, D-California.  This week Republican leaders acknowledged that Foley's 2005 e-mail to a Louisiana boy seeking a photograph raised a "red flag" and still they did nothing. The “liberal media” who were leaked copies of the e-mail with the Louisiana boy last year did not report on the story.  Both The St. Petersburg Times and The Miami Herald were given copies of the e-mail, as were other news organizations, including Fox News.  How is that for fair and balanced?

          Yesterday I mentioned that we would never know how the President’s mind works when it comes to justifying his policies.  Still, one must wonder how he came to be the way he is.  Perhaps he had a mentor.  Red Hog reader Joe sent me a quote that at least suggests the C Student from Yale is not an original thinker.  “Naturally, the common people don't want war ... but after all it is the leaders of a country who determine the policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in every country." [Hermann Goering]

          The political ads on TV are already well beyond monotonous and I say that unable to exclude those which represent the candidates of my political ideology.  How did it get to a point where hundreds of millions of dollars are considered wisely invested in advertising that should insult the intelligence of the least mentally acute of us?  I can’t possibly imagine that anybody has ever changed their opinion of a candidate because of an attack ad.  I don’t even subscribe to the idea that anything you would read in a blog would cause you to change your core beliefs.  I would hope that from time to time the work I do here would cause you to take some action such as call your Congressman, sign a petition or research more on your own.  I would shudder to think anyone would rely on the advertisement of particular candidate’s opponent to determine who they would vote for.  Perhaps someday we will see candidates use their expensive TV time to tell us why we should vote for them rather than why we should not vote for their opponent.  All of the negativity of political ads solidifies in our minds that elections are much about the selection of the lesser of two evils.

         

          “She Who Must Be Obeyed” is back in DC, all of the homecoming festivities are now a warm memory and the Chicago Bears protected their perfect record in dramatic fashion.  Monday everything goes back to normal.  Weekends are a great thing but occasionally Monday’s are welcome in my world.  This particular weekend I sandwiched about eleven hours of work between three trips to the airport, the high school homecoming game, getting the kids off to the homecoming dance, watching a huge Iowa Hawkeye – Ohio State Buckeye game (that one ended badly), a family reunion, the Bears 37-6 trouncing of the world champion Seattle Seahawks, the relighting of a temperamental water heater and a trip to the laundry mat because my washer is still on the blink.  I’m ready to go back to work.  Maybe I can get some rest there.

 

          Hopefully you had a great weekend.  Comments are now enabled on the Red Hog Diary.  Please feel free to add your comments at any time.  Please do me one favor.  Don’t put anything in your comments that you wouldn’t want our mothers to see.  I know my mom will see your comments and if you misbehave I will find your mother and tell her if you were naughty.  Have a groovy day!

          On September 28th Gee Dubya, in his always noble efforts to not politicize the war in Iraq, said, "the party of FDR and the party of Harry Truman has become the party of cut and run."  For that President to invoke the memory of FDR and Harry Truman makes me ponder what I would think if David Duke invoked the memory of Martin Luther King.  Bush then went on to once again tell us that we are safer now than we were in March of 2003 when we invaded Iraq.  It is as if he thinks by repeating the lie often enough it will become true.  We will never understand how his little mind works as he made those comments in light of his recently backfired intentional leak of the classified National Intelligence Estimate (NIE).

          The White House is so pre-occupied with selling their lies that they have now resorted to strategic leaks of classified security documents in an attempt to bolster their lies.  They can’t even do that properly as the most recent leak of the NIE came back and blew up in their face.  Does it make you feel safer to know that the man in charge of our national security ineffectively uses classified intelligence as a political weapon?  There is no precedent from in the history of the Oval Office for such careless protection of our national secrets.

          What upset me most about Bush invoking the memory of FDR and Harry Truman is that he and his GOP zealots are seemingly making it a mission to do away with The New Deal, Social Security, Labor, and our association with the United Nations.  Recently, on a Rush Limbaugh program the bloated hot air bag of Rush exclaimed, “FDR is dead.  His legacy lives on but FDR is dead and we are working on the legacy.”  Your choices in the midterm elections are before you.  Please actively make plans to vote.

 

          My twins are a little slow moving this morning but early reports are that the homecoming dance was an extravagant gala and fun was had by all.  As we reflect back on the week that was we will hold many fond memories of the excitement leading up to Clayton’s election as king and his brother and sister’s pride in his journey.  She who must be obeyed flew home and was certainly glad she was able to attend.  My older little brother flew home to attend the big Iowa – Ohio State game from the luxury of skybox seating and we are heading to Cedar Falls to have lunch at my mother’s home for an impromptu family reunion.  If it weren’t for the fact that the world is falling apart around us because of the C student from Yale being the most powerful man in the world I would say things are going pretty well.  Aww, the heck with it.  I’m not going to let politics distract me from the events of today.  Unless it happens to come up at the dinner table.