At the Close of Day
Most men and women, whether they admit it or not, have a desire to be remembered by history. Likely a few want to be notorious and a good number want to be famous, but most probably just want to know that their lives have not been lived in vain. They want to know that they have accomplished something beyond the day to day drudgery. They want to have made a difference, to know that they have left this world a better place for having been there.
But the measure of someone's contribution to the world can't be measured in terms of fame, or by counting how many times they make the papers, because, as Reinhold Niebuhr said, "Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime… Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history… Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone…"
The difference between famous people and people who will do down in history is simple. The lives of famous people end with their death. Their fame and notoriety is pinned on their living events. Sure, they continue to be remembered after they're gone. But their work is ended.
The people who go down in history, they are the ones whose work is continued by others after they are gone. Their work is not the work of a mere lifetime, but rather the work of generations. They willingly shoulder a burden that is not theirs; they begin where others have left off and toil while they can. Then the burden is handed off to the next generation, for continuation.
"What is it with DC and rain?" Milbrandt complained, coming through the door that connected Jack's office to his. "Without fail, every time I come back here from California, it's always raining."
Jack swiveled his chair around so that he could face his boss. "Good morning to you too," he commented dryly. "How was your trip? Aside from the rain, that is."
"Same old," Milbrandt declared. "It appears that they're going to elect me again."
"Congratulations," Jack offered after a second of hesitation.
"You don't seem nearly as excited as I thought you'd be. Aren't you glad to hear you're going to have a job for another six years?" Milbrandt asked casually, coming to take a seat in the chair before Jack's desk. His face showed that he knew what was coming.
"About that," Jack started awkwardly. "I don't know if I want a job for the next six years."
Even though he'd been expecting it, Milbrandt's eyebrows shot up into his thatch of silvery hair. "So I'm losing another chief of staff?" When Jack didn't answer right away, Milbrandt continued, "You know, the other senators are going to start making fun of me. I can't seem to keep a good chief of staff around for very long."
Jack cracked a small smile, the one that the senator had been fishing for. "You knew when you took me on that it wasn't going to be a retirement track job."
"I know," Milbrandt sighed. "But it hasn't even been four years yet and already I'm losing you. You guys can't possibly be getting ready for the primaries yet, especially not with the new rules, so why quit now?"
"Don't worry," Jack assured him, "we're not crazy enough to start primary stuff yet. And there's nothing wrong."
"Good, you had me worried there for a second. And Alex'll run a good campaign, one I'm looking forward to," he told Jack, "but now's not the time for it."
Jack nodded his agreement.
"But I've got to ask. If there's nothing wrong and you're not gearing up for the primaries, then why now?"
-
"Alex is pregnant again."
-
"Is this a joke?" Toby asked. "You have to be joking."
CJ reached out to whack him upside the head. "What kind of a comment is that? Of course I'm not joking. Why would I joke about something like that?"
"How did this happen?"
CJ raised her eyebrows at him. "You have to ask?"
Toby glared at her. "When did this happen?" he growled.
"June."
"She's been pregnant for nearly four months and no one bothered to tell us?" Toby grumbled. "They could have at least given us a courtesy call."
"She was keeping it a secret until she figured out how they were going to deal with a new baby in addition to everything else."
"You obviously found out," he pointed out.
"Yeah, well, Donna accidentally let it slip."
"How exactly did Donna find out?" Toby inquired.
"I think she might have overheard Sarah and Jeff talking about it."
"And they knew because…"
"Mark was having them do some research for him."
"Mark?"
"Yeah. Apparently he was helping Sam with a lecture series he's giving on the special problems that women face in politics," CJ explained.
"Sam's giving a lecture series about women in politics?" Toby questioned.
"Well, at the time he was planning on it, but I don't know if he is anymore."
"How'd Sam find out?"
"He was talking to Andi. And I guess that Alex had come to Andi looking for some advice."
Toby rolled his eyes and ran his hand over his head. "So, let me make sure I have this straight. It was a secret, which tends to imply that no one knew about it?"
"Yes," CJ confirmed.
"And no one knew about it?"
"Right."
"Except you, Donna, Sarah, Jeff, Mark, Sam, and my ex-wife," Toby stated.
"Well, and Ted," CJ corrected. "Ted was the one who suggested Alex talk to Andi."
"Other than me, and probably Josh, was there anyone else who wasn't in on this quote-unquote secret?" Toby asked pointedly.
"Well, Jack didn't know for a while, but I'm pretty sure that Alex has probably told him by now."
Toby closed his eyes for a moment. "Are we sure that this is even a fact and not one of those rumours that the tabloids like to print because they heard it from a friend of a friend of someone who might once have had coffee with something resembling a reliable source?"
"It's for real," CJ assured him. "And when they do finally call to tell us, act surprised. We're not supposed to know because…"
Toby interrupted her to finish the sentence.
-
"It's a secret."
-
"Okay," Joan answered, kneeling so that she was at the same eye level as the young girls. "I promise that I won't tell a soul."
"Cross your heart?" one of them inquired seriously. Joan was fairly certain that it was Becky.
Joan nodded solemnly, tracing an X over the left side of her chest. "And hope to die," she added solemnly.
The two girls looked shocked. One stepped back, her eyes round and her mouth open.
"It's just an expression," Joan explained quickly. "It means the same thing as crossing your heart."
The two of them looked at one another for a long moment. Joan recognized the silent form of communication; she was a twin herself after all. They must have decided that her explanation was acceptable because after a second of wordless conference, the one Joan thought was Abby stated, "We don't want the bunny to bring us a baby."
A look of confusion passed over Joan's face. "The bunny with the eggs is gonna bring us a baby, just like Santa brought us," Becky said, trying to clarify the situation.
"And then we're gonna move to the big white house," Abby continued. "But if the bunny doesn't bring us a baby, then we don't gotta move."
"But if the bunny doesn't bring us a baby," Becky picked up, "then Daddy still hasta go to work and he can't stay and play with us."
"We want Daddy to stay with us, but we like our little house."
Joan reached up to rub a spot near her ear, attempting to decipher what the girls were telling her. "Okay, let's see if I've got this right," she said after a second. "The Easter Bunny is going to bring you a baby." Two nods, so far, so good. "But you don't know if you want him to because then you'll have to move." More nods. "But if he doesn't, then your dad won't stay home with you."
"We'd rather have a puppy than a baby," Abby told her as gravely as only a three-year-old can.
"I don't think that you've got much choice," Joan sighed under her breath, wondering how best to explain everything. The girls were precocious, as was perhaps expected, but they were only three. They were too young to understand what the 'big white house' really meant.
