Do Not Go Gentle

The fierceness and tenacity with which some politicians will stick to their causes can come as a surprise to people expecting only compromise and backroom deals. My father likes to tell the story of Howard Stackhouse as proof of this point. The seventy-eight-year old senator had been written off by almost everyone as just another cantankerous relic of the past. But this 'curmudgeon', as my father affectionately called him, successfully staged a ten-hour filibuster to prevent a vote on a multi-million dollar health care bill. His problem with the bill was simple. There was no money earmarked for autism research.

For this of you not intimately familiar with Senate rules, during a filibuster, a person is only allowed to keep the floor for as long as they can keep talking. It really doesn't matter what they say, but they can't eat or drink during that time. But they can't go to the bathroom either, so maybe it's a good thing they can't drink. They can't sit down or lean against anything; they just have to stand there. Really, the only thing that they can do is just keep talking.

Stackhouse was old and he had a bad cold. But he stood up in front of the Senate, and he talked for ten hours. He read anything he could get his hands on, and talked about anything he could think about. He kept talking because he refused to give in without a fight. He refused to compromise when it mattered to him.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone but my father remembers Howard Stackhouse anymore. Or has he marched off into the past forever, to join the ranks of other long-forgotten men and women who were willing to do anything for what they believed in. Much as I would like to believe the former, I'm regretfully forced to think that it's the latter. Only my father and the rest of the Legacy keep Stackhouse's memory alive now.

But there is perhaps one consolation for the continuing disappearance of these little known heroes from our collective memory; there will always be others stepping forward into the breech, ready to give their voices. As each generation steps aside in favour of the next, it is impossible for us to tell who will rise to the occasions. It is only the situations that we find ourselves in, and our reactions to those situations, that will tell.


"We couldn't have just met in Washington?" Josh whined, sliding into the seat opposite Toby.

"We could have," Toby replied, leisurely sipping his Scotch. "But you didn't come here from Washington; you drove down from Connecticut, so I really don't see the difference."

"Yeah, but if we would have gone to Washington, I could have slipped over to the office for a couple of hours and gotten some work done," Josh explained. He reached for the menu, asking, "You ordered yet?"

Toby shook his head, gesturing shortly to the menu before him. Josh couldn't tell if the head shake was supposed to be an answer to his question, or a segue into his comment. "You know, apparently quote-unquote normal people don't treat vacations like punishment."

Josh shrugged. "Donna grew up with some of those people and something must have rubbed off. She's insisted that we take a two week vacation from work this year, even though she still hasn't stopped complaining that I never take her anywhere."

"She let you come here in spite of the 'no work' rule?"

Josh shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think that 'let' is the right word. I didn't really tell her I was coming until this morning, and then it was too late for her to do anything 'cause I was on my way out the door. She wasn't very happy about it though. I hope CJ can smooth things over for me a little before I get back."

Toby nodded sympathetically. "Good luck with that one. If anything, CJ'll just fan the flames. She's made that we're still not including anyone else in our discussions yet."

"What discussions?" Josh said jokingly. He and Toby had been following a strict policy of denial. They didn't want people knowing the details before they were ready to share them.

"She doesn't like that either," Toby snorted. "She thinks that if we're planning, we should come out and say it."

"I'm starting to think that Sam and Alex are the only two that aren't mad we're doing this the way we are," Josh noted with a sigh. "And I think that Sam would be if he weren't still in that lovey-dovey newlywed stage.

"They've been married for two years, since Sam's stint as governor ended; you'd think they'd be over it by now," Toby grumbled, knocking back the rest of his drink. "It's sickening."

"But it's at least keeping him off of our backs," Josh said.

Toby shrugged in reply. "We are going to have to start consulting other people pretty soon," Toby conceded. "We've only got three years of prep time left, and this is going to be a hard campaign."

"What campaign isn't?" Josh complained happily.

"Apparently very few of the ones that we want to win," Toby observed. "At the very least, this one will be interesting."

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"You can say that again."

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Donna rolled her eyes in answer to CJ's comment, sipping at her glass of wine delicately. "But it still never ceases to surprise me just how clueless they are," Donna added. "I mean, Josh thought that I didn't know about his little trip until this morning."

CJ shook her head and settled back against the soft leather of the couch. "Toby thinks that by refusing to admit every trip he makes is some sort of a head-hunting or research mission, he's keeping me in the dark about it."

"Head-hunting? I knew that they'd need to start searching out people, but I didn't know that they'd started that already. How long has this being going on?" Donna inquired.

"Since Alex came out and told Ted," CJ answered calmly.

Donna's jaw dropped. "They've been head-hunting for two years already?" she asked in awe.

CJ nodded. "Well, not openly, but that's what they've been doing. Toby's been amassing lists of people. Every so often, he'll hear about someone or read something that someone's written and out come the yellow legal pads. A week or two later, he's usually on a plane to interview them for articles that he never seems to write. And he always takes the yellow pads, never the white ones."

"And the colour of his paper is significant how?" Donna raised her eyebrows, not understanding the difference that the simple change of colour made.

"He only ever uses the yellow for politics," CJ explained. "If he's doing anything other than 'official' business, he always uses the white."

"Oh," Donna replied. "You think that Alex knows how far along they are in campaign planning?"

"She's even more clueless than they think we are. They've purposely tried to keep it away from her; I think they're scared of spooking her. I'm pretty sure that's why they've tried to keep us in the dark, to prevent us from saying too much."

"There's just over three years left; they're going to have to start involving other people pretty soon," Donna stated confidently. "This isn't some Congressional campaign that they can throw together in the last couple of weeks before the vote."

CJ nodded knowingly. "Sam and Mal are looking at moving into Washington," she declared without preamble.

"That can't be just a co-incidence."

"Probably because it isn't."

"At some point in time, they are going to have to let Alex in on the clandestine organization that they've built up around themselves."

"They've started leaking plans to Jack," CJ confided. "But I think that they're enjoying the cloak and dagger stuff a little too much.:

"Jack's going to have to make his official exit from politics soon," Donna observed. "Milbrandt's term is up this set of elections and with the baby on the way, this might be as good of a time as any for Jack to consider making a graceful exit without attracting too much attention."

CJ's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry. I don't think that I heard that properly. What did you say?"

Donna clapped her hand over her mouth.

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"I wasn't supposed to say anything."

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"With a beginning like that," Jeff interrupted, "this conversation is obviously going to be another one of those off the record ones that we all desperately wish could be on the record." He sighed theatrically. "Carry on."

Sarah rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the arm. "This doesn't have anything to do with anything that you don't already know."

Jeff reached out to jokingly confiscate her beer. "You're starting to get inarticulate; I think you've had enough to drink tonight."

She swatted his hand away from her drink. "I had another run-in with our illustrious editor," Sarah continued, making a point of taking a long swig from her beer.

"But you're the best of any of us at avoiding him," Jeff declared in surprise. "You've got yourself stationed over at the White House and you only really have to come back to the office to file. And half the time, you do that online."

"I know. But nonetheless, I had another nice little chat with him about what he sees as our growing conflict of interest."

"I don't think I like the sound of this."

"Basically, what it boils down to is that the two of us either have three years to convince him that we do not, in fact, have conflicts of interest…"

"Which wouldn't happen if we had a million years," Jeff interjected. "Go on," he urged, well aware that Sarah hated to be interrupted. That was why he persisted in doing it anyway, just to annoy her.

"Or we're going to have to find ourselves some new jobs."