Politics

Twenty years ago, I published a newsletter called Local Politics. The name was borrowed from Speaker of the House Tip O'Neill's shared wisdom that "All politics is local." I wrote about Thomas Jefferson, Ferdinand Marcos, and Phyllis Schlafly. I tackled human rights, women’s rights, and war powers.

I was fresh off a ten-year position as speechwriter and legislative assistant to U.S. Senator Tom Eagleton of Missouri. I was unabashedly passionate about politics. With one year of college behind me, I had improbably landed this job that put me smack in the company of such giants as Hubert Humphrey, Mike Mansfield, and Ed Muskie. My boss, Tom Eagleton was a giant among giants. He had just been reelected to the United States Senate by a groundswell in his native Missouri. Working for him was a crash course in history, constitutional law, and quick wit. It was pure fun. Tom Eagleton was the best boss and the best mentor I have ever had. I can’t believe my good fortune.

In 1980, my life settled into new rhythms and I set aside politics. Now, in 2008, politics has again seized me. But today, I view politics through the haze of time. And just as politics has changed in the decades since I served as Tom Eagleton’s speechwriter, so have I. Where once I viewed politics as the highest calling, recently it has become a blood sport. Lock and load. Slash and burn. Take no prisoners. It can be hard to distinguish the substance through the fog of electoral war. Today’s politics generates more heat than light. I say, “Let there be light.” Bring back the old days when politics called us to our higher selves.

I recall a heady day in the summer of 1961 when an aunt who worked at the State Department took me to work with her, with the promise of a surprise in the afternoon. At 3:00 PM, we rode the elevator to the basement. I thought we were going home early and headed for her car. “Wait here with me,” she said, motioning to a patch of sidewalk near the elevator.

Minutes later, two large men carrying walkie-talkies emerged from the elevator and asked us to “Step aside, ladies.” We did, and within minutes, standing smack in front of me was President John Kennedy and his Press Secretary, Pierre Salinger. No rope line, no buffer. They shook our hands and walked to the waiting Cadillac. The memory still kicks up the butterflies that took flight in my 16-year old stomach.

It’s been too long since I’ve felt that way. Too long since I’ve been stirred by ideas, summoned to common cause, compelled to action. This year is different. This year, ideas are back. After eight years of political drought, this year I believe we will elect the leaders we deserve: Barack Obama and Joe Biden. And when that happens, I intend to run out my front door, jump up and click my heels, and shout at the top of my lungs: “I love politics.”