Masters of Gilligan

Where Do You Know Senator Kennedy From?

Joe says:

I love living in Washington, DC.  Where else can you take your kid to his youth basketball playoff game played in a small, local boys and girls club gym on a Saturday afternoon in late winter and see Ted Kennedy?

We were standing in the gym doorway, my younger son and I, waiting for his game to begin, watching the finish of a younger division championship game, when I saw the Senator.  Truth be told it's really not unusual to run into any Senator, but we see Senator Kennedy out and about quite often.  At the movies, or picking up pizza, or getting Vietnamese food, anyplace around the neighborhood. 

He and I share a bit in common.  Most noticeably we share very large Irish heads.  He sat in front of us while we were watching Master and Commander in a theater back in 2003 and we had to move across the aisle because his head was so distractingly large and Kennedy-esque.  That's the reason why I grab the last row at picture shows.  Who wants a pumpkin head blocking their view when they've paid 10 bucks to see the screen?

I met him a few times in professional life when I was working on health care legislation and frequently met with his Senate staff, but he wouldn't know me.  I usually just nod and smile and say hi.  He usually does an obvious double-take when he sees me, though.  Do I remind him of a Kennedy?  My initials are in fact JFK.

It's probably just the similarly sized head.

But that's not the story I want to tell, running into Senator Kennedy.  I want to tell you about how embarrassingly stupid I can be, and it relates to Senator Kennedy.

My son has a teammate that he has known since they both were five years old.  They know each other not from school but through sports teams, and his family lives nearby.  The boys played baseball together for a couple of years on a team that I coached.  And they have played against each other in soccer games since then.  His parents are really nice and we've gotten to know them and they've helped us out by giving rides to games and practices when we've had schedule conflicts.  It was a real pleasure to connect back up with them this year when our boys joined the same basketball team, a kind of ad hoc, strung together team of players who lost all of their games this season against teams of boys who have been playing together for years.

Not only are the boy's parents truly devoted to sports, the boy's grandfather has always been there cheering his grandson on. Two grandsons, in fact.  They also have an older boy, just like us.  The grandfather and I have chatted with each other for years, and he's just the kindest and most incredibly interested gentleman you'd want to meet.  He is always there to catch the games, often arriving early, whether it's early morning soccer or basketball.  A tall man in his '80s, you can tell he loves sports and still enjoys golfing.  It's really remarkable and a total joy to see somebody who is so devoted to his grandkids' lives.  We often sat together this past basketball season, as we have in the past, and talked about, well, anything going on with our guys.  He takes a special interest in my boy's baseball playing, which he knows is really our singular sports focus.

I noticed that the grandfather was chatting with Senator Kennedy between games, and they looked like they knew each other well.  So I went over and said these dumb words to the man that I have known and chatted with at ball games for the last seven years:

"So where do you know Senator Kennedy from?"

And he answered:

"We served in the Senate together."

Gulp.

I consider myself a student of American politics, but I had no idea that the man I've been chatting with at games for years was a former U.S. Senator.  I felt like a rube who just violated some cardinal rule of living in Washington.

That's okay, he said.  It was a long time ago.  His daughter-in-law said that's okay.  Maine isn't one of the more prominent states.

But that's the last time I'm going to ask somebody how they know so and so.  From now on I'm just going to assume that everybody I meet might've been a Senator.

Come to think of it, that's another thing I love about living in Washington, DC.

Maybe a Hundred

You don't have to have seen the original to appreciate this one...an example of a parody that outperforms its source material.  Funny, funny stuff.

Remain Calm

Photo: Harish Tyagi/European Pressphoto Agency, The New York Times

After I met Benazir Bhutto this year I characterized the meeting as "a small intimate lunch" to make it seem more impressive.  The truth is that it did involve lunch, but it was a little more (or less) than intimate.  I was among around 30 or so others invited to hear her speak last spring during one of her trips to Washington, DC to seek U.S. support for her return to Pakistan this year.  I would've planned to attend and meet her under any circumstances: how often have I ever been asked to meet such a well-recognized world leader, even one in exile?  The fact that there would be lunch, as usually the case with events hosted by SAIS's South Asian Studies department a great lunch with really delicious South Asian foods, only served to sweeten the importance of the event.

I stood by the food table waiting to dig in when she entered the big room, dressed casually but wearing the lovely, enduring image of her wardrobe, the white scarf that covered her head that she would carefully fix when it strayed from her hair.  Up close she immediately reminded me of Angelica Huston. 

Against all reason, surrounded as I was by professors, prominent members of Pakistani-American community in Washington, a Hill staffer or two, Administration officials, Benazir Bhutto made a deliberate, but graceful bee-line for me.  Me?  She held out her hand to mine and said, "Hi, I'm Benazir Bhutto."

I grabbed her hand softly and said, "Hi, I'm...(slight pause) Joe Kelly."  AKA...nobody especially special.  I explained who I was and what a honor it was to meet her and hear her talk.  Then I pointed at the food table and asked if she was hungry.

I considered several reasons why Benazir Bhutto moved through the small audience to introduce herself first above others to me.

Perhaps she thought I was a Kennedy.  It's happened before.

Perhaps she thought I was an Administration official that she needed to lobby.  She seemed to be having difficulty getting their attention during that trip; she seemed too hot to embrace, winning only half-hearted, uncertain gestures.

Perhaps, and here's the most popular reason when I recounted the story to anyone and everyone who would listen, I was blocking the side food table.

She gave a great talk to those gathered around the table.  Clear, lucid, without notes, with a calm delivery.  Among the best ever in doing the candid political talk.  Toward the beginning of her impressive discussion a colleague of mine who serves in the Indian military leaned to my ear and whispered, "I believe you are looking at the next prime minister of Pakistan."

Why would she return?  Haven't the risks become more pronounced?  Haven't the enemies of democracy, of peace, of women, haven't the enemies grown more powerful more prevalent more murderous?  She seemed to believe that this was nothing new.  She had the experience to deal with the extremists, she said.  Besides, this was her home.  She needed to go home.

By the time she finished her talk with a sense of vision and clarity that seemed to briefly cut through the atmosphere of uncertainty and chaos that clouded the minds of even the most brilliant of foreign policy experts when they considered the future of Pakistan there were the words of my Indian colleague who brought me back to earth, back to reality as he leaned in and whispered when we stood to applaud Benazir Bhutto.

"I believe that she will be killed."

He had no special intelligence on the matter.  It was merely an inevitable guess.  Predictability in otherwise unpredictable situation.

I took to calling her my friend Benazir throughout the summer and fall when her negotiations and parlays and her exile and her return made the news.  When I woke late yesterday and Rebecca said, "Your friend Benazir..." it was plainly obvious that I finished the sentence.  Even my youngest boy when I woke him with the news repeated the prophetic words of my Indian military colleague.  These are the connections she made in our world.

Pakistanis are being asked, by our president, by their president, by other presidents and prime ministers, to remain calm.  Remain calm?  Has there ever been a calm Pakistan?

I only met her in an afternoon so I cannot speak for how she might've acted when she was at home, but Benazir Bhutto seemed to define calm.  Calm in the center of a rapidly moving storm.

Without that still point, without that center, without that grace, where will the wheel spin?   

If We Hear These Words We'll Know It's Time To Go

All rise for President Huckabee.

2003 edition 2007 edition

I think I liked the chubby one better.  Mostly because I didn't know who the hell he was.

We think we look bad now...but what will they think of us if our President's name is Huckabee?

Then again...he's got one really cool, kickass supporter.

Do you think he's angling for a Cabinet post?  Secretary of Self-Defense?  Border security?  Judo kick for every immigrant who crosses the stateline?

I believe that if Huckabee becomes President he will indeed lead me to the Promised Land.

Canada.

It's bound to warm up there pretty soon.

It's All Over Now

Joe says:

I'm afraid I've got some bad news for everybody supporting Barack Obama and pinning their hopes and dreams on his becoming our next President.

Because I've just signed up to volunteer for his campaign. 

And I have a horrible, horrible track record on these things.

Let's take a trip down memory lane and recall all of the bumper stickers of all of the candidates that I have backed in every Presidential election every four years since 1972 (except in 1996 when I supported my wife for President because she would turn 35 before inauguration day and therefore would simply qualify):

Almost as soon as I jumped on the bandwagon for these candidates the bandwagon broke down, or in 1984 when my Oldsmobile bumper fell off with the Jackson sticker on it, or in the case of Babbitt in 1988 there actually did not appear to be any wagon of any kind to be seen in the vicinity. 

Let's add one more sticker to my bumper dustbin of history:

Hey, I appreciate most of the 2008 Democratic Presidential candidates.  All infinitely better than the mealy-mouthed idiot flop-sweating Republicans on display last night.  And I'll support any of them, Clinton, Edwards, Richardson, or Biden if any end up on top.  I'm certain any one or more of them will begin to lead us out of the disaster that these last seven years of Bush and Cheney have brought to America and the world.

But I appreciate Barack Obama most of all and I happen to think that he's the right person for the time.  Great judgment on Iraq when others flailed and buckled and compromised and failed everybody. Best message on moving our domestic politics toward consensus (tough job) and away from a more polarizing approach to governing.  And most of all I think he's about the best example of m-m-m-m-m-our generation that I've ever seen.  He's from the generation that grew up in the '70s hearing stories of the '60s of Kennedys and King, came of age during the disillusion of the Reagan '80s, but went to work on doing the right things. For the first time, the very first time, there is a candidate who is from my time, not my parents' time, not my sisters' time.  And he's somebody to be proud of.  So far anyway. 

I'm convinced...and I'm going to see him speak along with the other candidates at the DNC meeting tomorrow in Virginia to support him, plug into his campaign, meet folks, get involved.

Only too bad that now that I've jumped off the fence to support him he won't be your next President.

Nice sticker though.