With Silent, Lifting Mind
Groucho Marx, while admittedly not a world-renown political scientist, once called politics "the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedies." While this was just his opinion, it is unfortunately an opinion that is shared by too many. These people expect politicians to be blessed with the foresight and the moral strength that are needed to do things perfectly every time. But politicians are nothing but ordinary people elevated into the spotlight and expected to fix problems that often have no good solutions.
It is impossible to predict what troubles lie ahead or who will be called upon to fix them. Past generations have had to solve the problems of Watergate or deal with the ramifications of a withheld illness. This newest generation of politicians, our generation, will have their own problems to deal with. There is no telling how serious they will be or who will be found equal to the task.
If it were possible to predict the future, many of the political difficulties that are encountered would likely be avoidable. But even with the benefit of hindsight, the closest we can come to being able to see everything clearly, the proper solutions to the problems are still obscured in partisanship and pinning fault. There is no reason to assume that the future will hold anything different. However, hope still remains because politics isn't something that one merely tries once and gives up in difficulties.
Politics is something dynamic. By its very nature, politics is something that grows and changes with the nation. It is something that adapts to the re-ordering of society. It bows to the whims of the people because the people are the base of politics. But a foundation is best used when it is built upon. Politicians are those few who dare to scale the foundations of the people and chance building further.
"Hey, Alex," Ted called. "Are you before the Committee again today?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah, wait up and we'll walk together." He hurried up to her, avoiding the knots of people clustered in the too narrow hall. When he had reached her side, he groaned, "I'll never know why people pick this hallway to stand and talk in. It's only the narrowest hallway in the entire building."
"It's probably not," she disagreed quietly, not really caring to get into an argument with him.
He let the matter drop. It wasn't worth picking a fight over the width of a hallway when in less than an hour they'd be before the Committee on Official Conduct testifying, again. "What day is this for you?" he asked.
"Eight," she answered.
"Seven for me." He paused, thinking. "How come you've had eight?"
"They had to excuse me Monday so that I didn't puke up my breakfast in front of them," she answered with a falsely cheerful smile pasted on her face.
"Oh," was all that he could think of to say. And then after a moment, "You feeling any better?"
"Not really," she answered miserably. "There has to be some kind of flu going around or something."
"Why aren't you at home in bed if you're sick?" he questioned.
"This is a Congressional inquiry. It's not like it's kindergarten," she responded, tightening her lips. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to make a quick stop before we go back to face the dragons." And without another word, she disappeared into the nearest ladies' washroom.
Ted leaned up against the wall and waited.
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"I can't think of anyone else who has the flu right now."
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"Neither can I," Jack agreed. "But we're all worried about these hearings and the two of you have been trying to pick up the slack for most of the Democratic representatives for the past month, since the subcommittee was set up. She's probably just overtired."
"Probably," Ted said reluctantly. "But it's not going to get any better. Justice is talking about trying people on felony charges and then we've got to worry about motions for expulsion. Plus, the Committee is talking of carrying on over summer recess which means we've got to stick around in DC until who knows when."
Jack shook his head. "What a mess this has turned out to be. Thank God I'm not with Clift anymore."
"I can't believe that he could hide that much from you. You were his deputy chief. It's not like you were an intern or anything," Mark exclaimed.
"I was in charge of strategic planning and bullying the junior representatives to fall in line. I didn't get to do any of the high-end stuff. Clift and his chief of staff always took care of that stuff personally. I thought it was a little weird at the time, but the two of them had been working together since the mid-eighties," Jack explained. "And the only reason I got as high as deputy chief was because Merrell gave me a good recommendation and the guy they had had in my position had a heart attack and died about two months before I came along."
"So, does it look like the Senate's going to be dragged into this?" Ted asked. "They haven't subpoenaed anyone from up there except you and Harrington, right?"
"Susanne Harrington," Jack burst out suddenly, biting down on his lip as if to withhold an expletive.
"Daughter of Roger Harrington," Ted supplied with a groan, "and niece of William Harrington."
"Who is, apart from Donna and the Whip, the most influential Democrat currently sitting in the Senate," Jack continued.
"She interned with you," Ted stated.
"It should be okay," Jack started hopefully. "Harrington and Clift were golf buddies and the Committee already cleared Harrington. They confirmed that he knew nothing."
"Did they know that his niece interned under you while you were working with Clift?"
"She was assigned to me," Jack clarified. "I hadn't met her before she showed up for work one day and Clift told me that she was my new intern."
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"Yeah, but do they know?"
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Alex shook her head miserably. "No. With everything that's going on, this is pretty much the worst time in the world for this to have happened."
"Think of it this way," Donna offered, "maybe you'll at least have an excuse to get out of the hearings for a while."
"Can we save the happy thoughts for a minute," Alex asked, leaning back towards the toilet, "because I think that I'm going to be sick again."
"Have some more ginger ale," Donna suggested, passing the can over. "It helped when I was pregnant with Noah and Joan."
Alex took a careful sip. "Thanks for meeting me for lunch," she said, smiling weakly.
"It's my pleasure," Donna answered.
"Ginger ale and crackers on a washroom floor," Alex joked, leaning her head back against the wall. "My compliments to the chef."
Donna laughed. "You must be feeling a little better at least."
"A little," Alex admitted. "How much longer is this supposed to last?"
"Well," Donna said carefully, "most of the time only for the first few months."
'And I'll probably be in front of the Committee for about the same amount of time," Alex complained. "I think they're getting tired of having to excuse me mid-way through a session so that they don't wind up wearing whatever I managed to choke down for breakfast."
"If they'd prefer the alternative," Donna proposed with a laugh. Then she got more serious. "You're going to have to tell them."
"But first I'm going to have to tell Jack."
"You could try bringing it up in casual conversation," Donna told her with a grin. "For example, 'Donna and I had lunch together today after I was done being raked over the coals by the Committee. My doctor called, we're having a baby. Oh, and the Mets won last night.' Of course, that always works better if he cheers for the Mets."
"Unfortunately for me," Alex replied, reaching for another cracker, "he doesn't cheer for the Mets."
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"Okay, then don't use that one."
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"That's good advice, Toby," Josh retorted. "Thank you for your infinite wisdom."
"Do I detect sarcasm?" Toby questioned. "Do I detect sarcasm coming from the very person who just finished asking me to rewrite a speech for their wife?"
"I refuse to answer that question under protection of the Fifth Amendment," Josh answered quickly.
"Been practicing for your anticipated appearance in front of the Committee for Un-American Distractions?" Toby quipped.
"When did you start calling it that?" Josh asked.
"About ten minutes ago, when I thought of it."
"I think that's a very dangerous comparison to make," Josh pointed out. "This is enough of a witch hunt already without having people making those comparisons."
"When'd you get the subpoena?"
"Yesterday afternoon," Josh sighed. "I've been working pretty closely with Harrington and it's well-known that Donna and I are friendly with Jack, Alex, and Sarah."
"I'm surprised that they cleared Harrington as fast as they did," Toby commented. "They two of them played golf together almost every week for what, thirty years?"
"Toby, the two of us worked together every day when we were in the White House for sometimes twelve hours a day," Josh began.
"On a light week," Toby interjected.
"Did you notice that something was wrong after Rosslyn until I put my hand through a window?" Josh asked.
"Well, there was the thing with the bagpipes," Toby protested. Josh waited quietly for a moment until Toby admitted, "No, not really."
"But now what would your first thought be if I started avoiding music, snapping at everyone for no reason, and doing the other things I was doing then?"
"I'd think that your PTSD was making itself known again."
"My point is this," Josh said, "it's easy to hide things from people if they don't know what they're looking for. And no one is ever looking for something like this."
"Just because you're not looking for it doesn't mean that it's not going to jump up and bite you in the butt."
Josh couldn't help but roll his eyes, even if he knew that Toby couldn't see it over the phone.
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"You should make sure you put that in the speech."
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Alex reached up to rub one of her temples. "It's only taken us an hour to come up with what we need to say, now we just have to figure out how to say it," Alex sighed. "I've got another day in front of the Committee to look forward to tomorrow and I would love to get some sleep before then, but that doesn't appear likely to happen."
"You should really look at hiring a speechwriter, Alli," Jack suggested, tossing aside his pad of paper and coming to stand behind her and peer over her shoulder at what she had written.
"I really need to look into a lot of things, Jack," she answered. "And I haven't exactly had the time to do any of it."
"Maybe Toby and CJ would be willing to come stay for a couple of weeks and help out. I'm sure that CJ is itching to get into this one and I know Toby is already giving Donna a hand with crisis management in the Senate," Jack commented. "It might be worth asking."
Alex nodded. "I'll call first thing tomorrow morning. I think that I'm going to need the help."
"Is this the Alexandra that I know?" Jack asked in mock alarm. "You must have more than just the flu to admit that you need help so readily," he teased, reaching out a hand to feel her forehead.
She swatted his hand away, turning in her chair so that she could face him. "You know that I hate it when people call me Alexandra," she protested.
"And a nonviolent reaction to being called by her full name," Jack continued, stepping back with a look of fake shock on his face. He pointed a finger at her accusingly. "What have you done with my wife, you imposter?"
Alex sighed. "Jack."
"That's my name," he answered glibly.
"Do you want to sit down and shut up for a minute? There's something that I think we need to talk about."